#as someone who though he sucked at reading i can admit to doing some of this but

[pinksilkribbons]

YANDERE! WEREWOLF: REESE

CW/TW: f!reader, werewolves (duh), some minor violence, breaking and entering, kidnapping, (slight) fear kink, breeding/impreg kink, scent kink, one dub-con ass slap, slight nsfw, not full smut, reese is just a pervert idk yall

this isn’t proof read and is kinda rushed don’t get on my ass if it sucks yall 😭 but yes this blog IS monster fucker friendly :)

Yandere!Werewolf whose pack stays deep in the woods.

Yandere!Werewolf who is expected to be the next leader of the pack once he finds a suitable mate.

Yandere!Werewolf who constantly gets in trouble with the elders.

“Reese you know better than to wander off! What if an outsider spotted you, huh?”

“It’s about time you take on a mate, don’t you think? You know you can’t take the throne until you find someone!”

Yandere!Werewolf who thinks all the pack elders are dramatic. He’s an alpha for fucks sake! The strongest there is. Only second to the pack leader himself.

So what if he wants to go beyond the woods sometimes? He can do as he pleases! As for a mate..he’ll get one when he sees fit!

Yandere!Werewolf who went out one night while everyone else was asleep. He was bored and restless.

Just as he was heading near the end of the woods he finds a small cottage that he knows hasn’t always been there.

It was real small, though. Way too small for any werewolf.

‘It can’t be…’

One peek won’t hurt right? He’s just gotta check and make sure it isn’t another werewolf. Gotta protect the pack after all!

With a cautious hand he slowly creaks open the bedroom window. Unfortunately, his long claws created a horrible screeching noise against the glass, definitely alerting the human- er, lone werewolf!

Alerting the lone werewolf of his presence.

Yandere!Werewolf who rushes inside in a panic. If he’s already given himself away it’s better to just hurry up and confirm his curiosity. Then, he’s going back home!

A part of him feels nervous. If it is a lone werewolf he shouldn’t have any trouble fighting them off. A human, though?

He’s heard plenty of horror stories. Especially of the humans who they call hunters. That entire species is the only reason why his pack must conceal their existence in the first place.

He hated to admit it, but the idea of encountering a hunter made his stomach churn.

But, even harder to admit, it made another part of him feel warm. The kind of warmness that made his knot flare up and sent him into an early rut.

“Hello? …Is anyone there?”

Reese felt his ear twitch at the soft, feminine voice. Her voice was smooth and wrapped around his body like a blanket.

He steps towards the voice.

“Please! Who’s there? Show yourself!”

The voice becomes more rushed. More panicked. More scared. Fuck, human girls sure are cute.

“Last chance! Or i’ll shoot you! I swear to god!!”

He’s getting closer. She’s right behind this door, in the bathroom. His hand snaps towards the knob, twisting it with a rush and-

BANG!

A sharp pain crushes his body, sending his body into an instant rage. A smoking hole leads straight through the door and right to his shoulder. Reese turns off his brain for a moment and lets his alpha take control instead.

He rips open the door with an animalistic growl, bits of wood flying everywhere. His eyes dart left and right before finally spotting the human, crouched down and shaking in fear.

She sports a long white dress that reaches her ankles. One that reminds him of maternity wear the women in his pack use during mating season.

His inner alpha chants at him to move.

To pounce at her and claim her for himself. Give her his seed, make her his mate, and give her plenty of pups that they could care for together.

The human smells real nice anyway. Definitely fertile. He doesn’t have a mate yet so…would it be so wrong?

Loud sobs bring him back to his senses. “Please mister, I ain’t do nothing to you!” She sinks further into herself if even possible.

The woman holds a small pistol close to her chest. He’s only encountered human weapons a few times and he’s not familiar with that one. That’s definitely what caused the damage to his shoulder though.

Reese is unsure about what to do. This whole thing went way different than he expected. The original plan was to just sneak inside, look at the human for a bit, then leave.

Now he has a hard dick and a bleeding shoulder. His pack would be in his ass if he came back injured with no head to show for it. Thats like admitting he was defeated by someone else.

Definitely not an option. Maybe he should kill her then?

Take her back home and give her your knot. The elders keep bothering you about finding a mate anyway. Who better to keep the pack safe from humans than a human herself?

“Kill two birds with one stone, right?” Mating the human seemed like the best way to get out of this with no consequences. The entire pack would be real jealous to find out he’s mated a hunter. Plus, she could provide extra protecting with her human weapon.

Reese approached the girl and crouched down to her height. His body easily towered over her, something his alpha really liked.

She’s real small. Smells so fertile. Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen? Let’s take her home.

He smiled mischievously, sharp teeth sending a chill down your spine. He’s made his decision. “Alright, mate. You can quit crying. I won’t kill ya.”

You sniffled while slowly resting down the pistol. You’re out of bullets and this ..thing clearly isn’t any match for you. A part of you wonders if this is the werewolves your father constantly warned you about.

Werewolves ain’t real though. You a lot of things, but you ain’t dumb. Same way you ain’t dumb enough to believe this intruder isn’t here to kill you. He looked like he was gonna rip your head off just seconds ago.

“Just make it quick please,” You beg, fighting off more tears. Your daddy was right when he said nothing good comes out of living in these woods.

“You got it, baby! I’ll get us back home in no time.”

Reese grabs your frail body with ease, delivering a harsh smack to your ass. He chuckles lowly at the jiggle of skin against his hands.

All the while you’re thrashing against him and begging him to let you go. It actually surprised him to see you still resisting. Youre the one who told him to hurry up and get home!

You sure are confusing. No matter though. He’ll understand humans the longer he’s with you.

Cause one things for sure: you won’t be leaving anytime soon.

Yandere!Werewolf who wakes up the whole pack to alert them of his find. They all snarl angrily at the “hunter”, baring their claws aggressively.

Yandere!Werewolf who has to yell at everyone to back off. When he demands respect for his mate it goes silent. Everyone begins whispering, clearly surprised at his reveal.

Yandere!Werewolf that feels pride swell in his heart as each member bows down in respect. His mate looks shocked more than anything.

Yandere!Werewolf who laughs when you begin freaking out, not wrapping your mind behind the existence of werewolves.

“You’re a hunter, baby. I’m sure you know at least a little about our kind.”

Yandere!Werewolf who laughs even harder when you insist you aren’t a hunter. Only kind of humans that can hurt werewolves are hunters. You’re just a little scared right now!

Now quit lying to him before he gets mad.

Yandere!Werewolf who gets the approval of the current leader without even trying. It’s official now.

You will bear his pups, lead the pack by his side, and stay with him until he ceases to exist. How romantic.

“Hey. I forgot to ask. What’s your name, mate?”

Well, as romantic as Reese can get, anyway.

[luveline]

I read the Derek and Spencer fainting bit and now I want to complete it with Hotch :)))

If that’s alright of course…

thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader

Aaron knows you harbour more affection for him than anyone else on the team, which is a true compliment to him, as you adore Spencer. He can never tell if you're friendly or loving, if you want some or all or nothing, the line between you blurred. 

When Morgan and Garcia first began their flirtatious friendship, Aaron thought they were seeing each other on the sly for a whole fortnight. He's a profiler, but he doesn't know everything. 

He does, however, know that something is wrong with you today. Hand held up over your eyes, you squint out over the crime scene with a wrinkled nose. The lakeside smells as bad as it looks with gore blackening the surrounding grass. He's been telling you for months to get some shades. You've been ignoring his advice. 

Your disapproval of the smell is normal. Your unsure footing is not. You take his forearm when he offers it and step across the muddy bank to the body without audible complaint, though you give him a 'this fucking sucks' narrowing of the eyes when he gives you the time. 

"Agent Hotchner," a deputy greets, "Agent L/N. We found the second body here. Bystanders pulled the first out thinking she was still alive, but that was unfortunately not the case." 

You shift unprofessionally close to Aaron. He doesn't really care. The sheriff barely looks at you both, his attention on the corpse hidden between overgrown cattails. 

Aaron hates to admit that he gives you more of his attention than is helpful. You seem odd. Call it intuition, call it plain old profiling, Aaron reads the next minute of events in the smallest twitch of your finger.

You put your hand on his back and he doesn't think, he just grabs you. The sheriff deputy startles as you fold over Aaron's arm like a marionette with strings sliced, exhaling hard as your body does its best to hit the grass beneath your feet. 

"Agent L/N!" The deputy yelps. 

"I got her," Aaron says, easing you down to the ground. He keeps a hand behind your head to lay you down flat, the other quick to leap from your side to your cheek. You'll likely have bruises in the shape of his hands at your waist. "Y/N?" 

He rubs his thumb under your eye. Quick, he leans down with an ear to your lips and relaxes at the sound of your shallow breathing. He pulls away, resting a hand atop your chest. 

"Can you hear me?" he asks, conscious of and ignoring the copious pairs of eyes watching over you. 

You don't respond. Aaron goes into emergency mode, flagging down a cop who races for a paramedic, hands at your throat unbuttoning the first button on your blouse, the second in an overabundance of caution. 

"Y/N, if you can hear me, I need you to open your eyes. Can you do that?" His tone wavers somewhere between demanding and desperate. "Come on. Come on." 

Fainting is one thing. Fainting with no signs of dehydration and little sun exposure is another, especially considering you hadn't moved from one position to another. You've passed out with no obvious cause. Any number of things could be wrong. 

He doesn't slap you —it works in the movies and not often elsewhere. In fact, Aaron finds himself at the opposite end of the spectrum. Patient outwardly and insanely panicked on the inside, he holds your face in his hand and waits for someone to tell him you're alright. 

Your breath catches, your head lolling into his palm. He straightens it, weary of your airways. "Y/N? Tell me you can hear me." 

The whirlwind of your fall and the eternity of your recovery has him holding his breath. 

"I can hear you," you mumble, again attempting to turn your head. He lets you this time. He's so relieved, he'd let you do anything. 

He fights the urge to shout, Where's the medic? instead following your face, tilting his head to the side. "Open your eyes, honey," he murmurs, for your ears alone. 

Your lashes twitch against his pinky index finger. You frown as though you're in pain and finally rouse to attention. 

"What hurts?" he asks, brows furrowed.

"Nothing hurts…" Your frown worsens. "You look really unhappy." 

"I'm not ecstatic about this," he says. He gives in, shouting, "Where's the medic?"

"Oh, no, please," you say, trying to sit up, "that is so embarrassing."

Aaron pushes you flat to the grass beneath you. "Stop, you need to stay flat. You passed out. This is the solution–" He puts his hand flat over your chest as you put in some effort. "Hey, this is what you need to do. Listen to me, agent." 

"What happened to honey?" you ask quietly. 

"That's when you were doing what I wanted." 

You close your eyes in a faux strop. "I guess I'll have to do what you want more often, sir." 

"That's enough." He sounds fond. Why does he sound so fond? 

The deputy clears his throat. "Paramedics are here." 

You groan. Aaron hides a smile. Through everything, his hand has stayed on your cheek. He doesn't pull it away until he absolutely has to, and even then, he holds some part of you. Your elbow, your wrist. He has the sense to be sheepish about it when the paramedic ushers him back, but even then, he's thinking about when he'll get to touch you next; he needs the assurance that you're okay. 

He gets it a half hour later when you're sipping on a gatorade in the back of an SUV. 

"Do I still get paid for today?" you ask, smiling playfully. "Or is this a write off?" 

He wants to joke about it with you, but there's work to be done. He sends you back to the hotel with a frankly unprofessional hug and a demand to take it easy. He's sure you'll be back stepping on his heels by late afternoon. 

[alchemistc]

"Evan's not here," Tommy says, and Eddie scowls at him as he pushes past Tommy, already aiming for the kitchen as he hitches the six pack he'd brought with him up under his armpit. It'd been a - a thing. A 'my best friend and my new friend are too busy sucking face to spend every spare moment distracting me from my problems' thing, a thing where Eddie sort of finally understood exactly why Buck had hip checked him on the basketball court months ago. He wants his best friend back. He wants the ease of his friendship with Tommy back.

Which is - Christ, he's selfish, is the thing. A month without Chris there to keep him occupied and Eddie has had some startling realizations about himself. ("You're not selfish, Eddie, you're the most selfless person I know." from Buck and "So fix it," from Tommy, a rare night out with the both of them because he'd headed date night off at the pass by asking Tommy to go out for drinks before he and Buck could make plans without him).

"My world doesn't revolve around Buck," Eddie tells him, and screws the cap off a beer to hand it to Tommy. Tommy's doing that judgmental face he gets when he wants to say something bitchy but hasn't put the words in the right order yet. And - Eddie's not lying. Buck is a fixed point, an ever present life-line, but he's not the fucking sun.

Neither is Chris, apparently, which is news to Eddie and he's - spiralling, still. Quietly, calmly, and he's only punched one hole in the wall on a bad night.

"You ever go to Frank?" Eddie asks, like Frank is the only therapist in the greater LA area, and Tommy rolls his eyes, disappears long enough for the muted sound of the television to go quiet.

When he comes back Eddie's reading the label on his beer bottle

"Apparently I resent you," Eddie says, and Tommy chuffs a laugh.

"Apparently?"

"No, I -." The words had been just as hard two hours ago. This little trip was his own design, he'd been told specifically to sit in it for a while but Christ, an hour a week isn't enough time to talk through his issues and it's not like he can tell Buck he resents him for finding something he's happy and stable and solid in. So. Tommy it is. "You and Buck are good together. I'm happy for you both. I am."

Tommy settles against a countertop with his hip digging into the Formica. His kitchen has gained a dutch oven that looks suspiciously like the one Buck has been showing Eddie for like six months that he couldn't justify the cost of because he's not around enough to use it as much as he'd like.

"I'm not usually the one without his shit together," Eddie says.

"No offense, Eddie, but I thought the whole point of therapy was you realizing you rarely have your shit together."

Also true. He's - usually better at hiding it though. Kim was a joker stacked up on a wobbly house of cards and he'd known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she'd bring the whole thing tumbling to the ground. Mass casualty event. No survivors.

"You make each other better people," Eddie says, which is the wrong thing to say apparently because Tommy scowls.

"If you wanna completely ignore all the work we've both put into ourselves," he snipes, and - yeah. Fair. Buck's been in therapy for years now. Every once in a while he'll pull something out of his ass that makes Eddie's skin itch - something so mystifyingly self-aware that it makes Eddie want to claw into his chest cavity and rip out his fucking heart. And Tommy - well, he doesn't know much but it's not like Tommy's the paragon of perfection. He's worked through some shit. Is still working through shit, if the aftermath of his and Buck's first real fight is any indication.

"I've never been with someone who makes me want to work on myself," Eddie admits, and the lines around Tommy's eyes shift. He sighs.

"Never gonna find that if you don't want it for yourself."

Yeah. Frank's said as much. It's just - Eddie doesn't have a starting point. Tommy had the whole hiding his true self thing, and Buck had the dead-brother-shitty-parents thing, and he's whittling them both down to the sharp edges of themselves in his mind, which isn't entirely fair but it's easier than trying to confront what the fuck his own problem is. Dead wife, his kid in another state, a contentious relationship with his father, a whole backlog of PTSD he's never really confronted head on. Weird feelings cropping up about a religion he thought he'd left in the dust and sand of Afghanistan and a hole he's been trying to fill up with other people since - well, he doesn't even know since when.

Tommy's got his dog tags laying in the bottom of an empty fruit bowl on his kitchen table. Eddie's never seen them before, and some part of him knows Tommy'd brought them out for a conversation with Buck he'll never hear himself, and he aches. He doesn't want them, but he wants what they have, wants to be able to talk about the difficult shit without closing in on himself, wants to have someone to come home to, wants -

"I spent six months imagining my therapist's head exploding every time she made me talk about something uncomfortable," Tommy tells him, and takes a long drag off his beer. For the first time since he'd knocked on Tommy's door, Eddie actually feels a little bad about interrupting his night, but that just leaves him spiralling some more because Eddie usually feels bad about everything, all the time, so why hadn't he felt guilty about this until now? And why does he feel guilty about not feeling guilty?

"I just want him to fix me," Eddie says, and Tommy laughs. Laughs hard and long enough that Eddie's feeling offended. Off kilter and pissed off and -

"You're not a single loose wire, Eddie. Can't just replace a cable and have a clean slate. You gotta change your oil and replace the spark plugs and top up the coolant, over and over again until you die."

It's the sort of metaphor Eddie'd like to lob across the field of engagement just to watch it get shot to pieces. It's apt, though.

"Feels like the whole engines gotta go," Eddie tells him "Transmission's shot and my catalytic converter keeps getting stolen and the mufflers been welded back on so many times that it's half-solder."

"Christ," Tommy says, which. Yeah. Exactly. "Well you can't exactly send yourself to the junk yard for scrap and buy a newer model."

"Buck does," Eddie snaps, and Tommy rolls his eyes. He'd been there the last time Buck brought up his 1.0 days.

"Half the time a system update patches ten bugs and creates twenty more."

"So Buck's buggy, is what you're saying."

He rolls his tongue over his teeth. "You are running off faulty software and you've been refusing to update to the new version because you heard it'd burn the battery faster, is what I'm saying."

Eddie doesn't have a whole lot of charge to begin with. And the metaphors are starting to muddle in his brain, too many different ideas battling around when he's already spent an ornery hour talking to Frank and another trying to convince himself he doesn't resent his best friend for accepting his own fucking flaws and working on them.

Tommy sets the beer bottle down. Eyes Eddie for a moment, and Eddie wonders how often he levels that look on Buck, how Buck feels when Tommy flays him open and digs through his insides. "You wanna go hit something for a bit?" he asks, and Eddie nods so quickly he nearly smacks his nose into the brim of the bottle in his own hand. He's about done feeling his feelings, for the moment. He'll probably end up being annoyed that Tommy makes him wrap his hands before he takes some aggression out on the bag hung up in the corner of Tommy's garage, but maybe when Tommy gets annoyed with him and does that takedown maneuver that knocks the wind out of Eddie's lungs when they're sparring he'll let that go.

Tommy flicks his forehead on the way to grab him something to wear. "That's for calling my boyfriend buggy, jackass," he says, and laughs himself all the way down the hall when Eddie splutters after him.

His bedroom door snicks shut by the time Eddie's recovered enough to remind him that he'd been Eddie's friend first.

[ataliagold]

you're the only one who knows, you slow it down

For @astrangersummer week 13 prompts 'cat' and 'farmers market'. Title from Look After You by The Fray. And yes, I watched A Quiet Place Day One and was obsessed with Frodo...

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: T

W/C: 1791

Tags: Modern AU, No Upside Down, First Meeting, Steve has PTSD, Steve has a service cat, Steve wears glasses, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart, panic attacks, Eddie takes care of Steve, referenced child abuse, autistic Steve (not overly relevant here but still)

Summary: Eddie's at a farmers market when he's approached by a very determined black and white cat. On a whim, he follows him to a young man having a panic attack in the woods.

___

Eddie’s browsing the little jewelry stand at the far end of the Farmer’s Market, glancing over hand-made leather bracelets and cheap silver rings while the old lady behind the table watches him hopefully. Over a blare of emergency sirens from the street in the distance he can hear Wayne behind him bartering with someone who’s wanting to buy one of his plants, the plants Eddie had been roped into carting there from the van in boxes that were too fucking heavy and he’d been drenched in sweat almost immediately under the summer sun.

He looks up briefly, regrets it immediately because the vendor’s eyes light up and fuck now he’s gotta buy something…

He’s interrupted by something soft brushing against his ankle.

Hanging up a black leather band, he looks down. Blinks a few times, confused.

There’s a black and white cat butting its little head against his leg. The cat stares back up at him with yellow eyes, wide and imploring.

“Uh….hi?” Eddie says, moving his leg away a bit because he doesn’t really do cats, has never interacted with them much before to be fair, other than the feral ones that hung around the trash in the trailer park and those weren’t exactly…friendly.

This guy is far cuter and cleaner than those cats ever were, though.

He’s got a maroon collar with a tag attached, and a red harness with a loose lead trailing behind him.

The cat steps closer to Eddie. Insistent now, shoving his face into his ankle again, then lets out an imploring meow.

“Where’s your owner?” Eddie asks to no one in particular, swiveling his head and surveying his surroundings. He sees fruit stands with enormous oranges, a honey stall, someone selling flowers off to his right, a small crowd browsing the wares but no one that looks like they’ve lost a black and white cat.

The cat meows again.

Eddie stoops down, gingerly reaches for its collar, reads the tiny writing on the tag in hope of some owners’ details.

Frodo - service cat

And Eddie had heard of service dogs, sure, but a cat?

A great name though, he admits.

He squints at the phone number etched below the name. Pulls out his phone, dials it. All the while Frodo meows at him, slams his head more forcefully into Eddie’s shin.

The call rings out to a voicemail, a guy called Steve in the message.

Eddie hangs up. Sighs, carefully pats the cat with a single finger on his head.

“You’re kinda cute, huh?” Eddie murmurs. “Someone’s missing you, for sure.”

He stands up again. Frodo moves several steps away, stops, stares back at him.

A lightbulb goes off in Eddie’s head.

He takes a step towards the cat. Frodo squeaks out a noise that seems happy to Eddie, and he steps even closer.

Frodo turns tail and trots off away from the market, and Eddie follows, Frodo glancing back every now and then to check Eddie’s still with him.

And so, the cat leads him towards a little copse of trees on the far side of the park. It’s pretty deserted out here, with most people busy browsing the market instead of taking their morning walks.

But as they get closer to the clearing in the middle of the trees, Eddie hears it.

Light gasps, panicked breathing, someone trying to suck in oxygen that just won’t come.

He quickens his step towards it. Frodo speeds up too, breaking away from Eddie now and bounding into the trees.

There’s a young man sitting in the dirt.

His knees are pulled to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, and he’s rocking back and forth a little. His cheeks are wet, eyes clenched shut behind crooked glasses.

Eddie drops to his knees beside the man, hand hovering above his shoulder, not sure whether or not to touch because he knew a thing or two about panic attacks, knew this was what he was seeing, didn’t want to frighten the man and make it worse…

Frodo presses himself up against the man’s side, trills quietly. The man shifts, blindly reaches for the cat, unfolds himself a bit and hauls the animal into his lap, burying his face in warm fur.

“…hi,” Eddie says quietly, barely audible, clears his throat and tries again. “Hi. I’m…I’m Eddie.”

The man goes still. Freezes, noticing Eddie for the first time. He peeks out from behind Frodo’s head, blinking up at Eddie, eyes red and sore-looking but also honey-brown and soft. He’s got moles dotted across his cheeks, hair long and mussed and falling across his face.

He’s fucking gorgeous, Eddie’s brain supplies.

He forces that thought away – it’s not exactly helpful right now.

“Are you Steve?” Eddie guesses.

A small, singular nod.

“I found your cat,” Eddie supplies. “Or…he found me, I guess. Led me here. He’s pretty clever.”

“He’s the b-best,” Steve croaks, his voice raspy and rough and broken. “He’s a service cat. But you can…you can go, s’fine.”

Eddie frowns, shakes his head. “I’m thinking he came and got me for a reason, huh?”

Steve looks away, shrugs.

Eddie waits, gives him time to answer, but Steve doesn’t speak again. He hugs his cat to his chest, still lightly trembling all over.

“How about…I sit here for a few minutes, and you take some deep breaths, huh? I’m thinking you’ve had a panic attack, and those suck – trust me, I know – but you need to get your breath back, ok?” Eddie reaches for Steve, hand ghosting over his shoulder now.

Steve flinches lightly, but doesn’t pull away.

Frodo purrs away calmly in Steve’s lap, letting his owner squeeze him close.

And Eddie sits, and waits.

He remembers his own panic attacks as a kid, after he’d wake up from a nightmare about his dad – where he swore the stench of alcohol was in his room, when his dad was surely just outside his bedroom door, all tension wound tight and clenched fists and ready to unleash a barrage of abuse at him. His uncle Wayne would step quietly into his room, would gather him up and hold him tight, would talk to him quietly about everything and nothing all at once until Eddie drifted peacefully back to sleep.

As the minutes tick by, Eddie starts to talk.

“I don’t know much about cats, but yours is pretty clever,” he murmurs, rubbing circles across Steve’s broad back, over the soft yellow sweater he was wearing. “He came right up to me, no idea why he picked me out of a crowd of nice old ladies at the market, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer, he insisted on getting me to you. I guess that’s his job, right? Just like how some service dogs are trained to go and get someone if their owner is in trouble? I used to have this neighbour, this girl called Max, she had some disabilities after a car accident, and she had a dog who was trained to do that sort of stuff. But you’ve got Frodo.”

Steve’s breathing is evening out, his shoulders untensing slightly as Eddie speaks.

“Badass name, by the way,” Eddie continues, chuckling a little. “I’m guessing you’re a Lord of the Rings fan, then. So am I. In fact, it’s probably my favourite -”

“Not a fan,” Steve mumbles.

Eddie pauses mid-sentence. “…oh,” he finishes lamely.

Steve shifts a little, the tiniest smile twitching at his lips.

Eddie’s heart thumps in his chest at the sight of it.

“This kid I used to babysit, his name’s Dustin, he picked the name,” Steve clarifies, his voice a little clearer now, a little less forced. “It just kinda stuck.”

“It suits him,” Eddie assures him, reaching a hand out to the cat. He quickly snatches it back, remembers Max telling him over and over that you weren’t supposed to pat a service animal when they’re working. “Sorry,” he says quickly, “I didn’t mean to…well. He’s working.”

Steve smiles, wider now.

Eddie blinks slowly at him, feeling stupid and warm and weak for this man.

“You can pat him,” Steve says quietly, just above a whisper. He unfolds his legs, loosens his grip on Frodo just a little, giving Eddie room to reach across to the cat.

Eddie grins as his fingers find soft fur. He traces over Frodo’s head and the cat purrs louder, pressing back into his hand.

Steve watches, tears drying on his cheeks. He lifts his glasses, rubs at his eyes, then straightens them again.

“It was the sirens,” he says, a little choked up still.

Eddie nods slowly, continues to pat Frodo.

“Over on Main Street, I think, I was walking past and they were really loud, and then more and more started and then there was that fire engine too and all the flashing lights and…”

Eddie heard it earlier, too. Some crash near the park, the ladies at the market had gossiped amongst themselves.

“…and I tried to move away, but they were everywhere so I went into the trees and that was a little better but I could still hear them, and I know it’s fucking stupid but some stuff happened to me a few years back and now every time I hear them…” Steve trails off, snaps his mouth shut. Runs his hand rhythmically down Frodo’s back, almost meditatively now. “Sorry. S’dumb. But…I’m ok now, I think.”

Eddie splays his free hand across Steve’s back. Thinks about how much he’d like to pull Steve to his side, bundle him close, wrap himself around him…but they’ve only just fucking met.

He needs to calm down.

“It isn’t dumb,” Eddie insists gently, “I used to get them too. Panic attacks. I get it, ok? I’m just glad you’re ok now.”

Steve smiles at him, wobbly and weak but there.

“Thanks,” he says softly, “for following Frodo. And for…staying.”

Eddie returns his smile. Reaches for the man’s hand, clasps it, helps him to shaky feet.

Steve doesn’t let go of his hand.

They linger there, under the shade of the red maple trees, neither saying anything for a long moment.

Frodo sits at their feet. Blinks up at them, meows eventually.

Steve picks up Frodo’s lead, one hand still in Eddie’s, fiddles with the red canvas cord.

Eddie’s heart beats faster.

“Do you…wanna come and look around the stalls?” he asks quietly, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand not held securely in Steve’s, thinks he’d be happy if he could never use that hand again, so long as Steve kept a hold of it.

Steve smiles again, bright as the sun, and nods.

Slowly, he follows Eddie out of the clearing and back into the light of the day.

___

[charmercharm3r]

Make Love, Not Porn

Play Time!

HHJ

Masterlist, Series Masterlist

18+ content — minors, do not interact.

wc: 3.8k

Synopsis: You crave a life of normalcy, he craves you. And he'd do anything to keep you, even if you're for the world to see.

warnings: barista!hyunjin x cam girl!reader, smut, explicit sexual content, masturbation (m, f), he's a little obsessed, easing into the smuttier smut if that's even a thing.

Live : Play Time!

Next Scheduled Broadcast : Heat Signature

☆ﾟ

Rule number one; everybody is temporary.

There is no love in this industry, no trust, no friends, only coworkers that all want the same thing. Sometimes you work with them more than once, other times– most times, it’s a one-and-done deal.

They never want to stay anyways, you learned that lesson the hard way. It’s why you set up such a tough wall to break through, there’s no point in befriending anyone on your side of the pond.

It’s scary, really, how quickly you can be moaning someone’s name, kissing them like you need them to breathe, touching and feeling them as intimately as someone who truly was in love. Then as soon as the livestream ends, you can’t remember what their lips feel like and everything smells like latex and sweat. You offer them some water, snacks, a shower. They usually decline. Minutes later, your front door is shutting and you’re alone once again.

No one ever intends on getting into porn, you don’t even remember the details on how you ended up here. Your follower count had risen overnight and before you knew it, that one video had gotten you more money in a week than a month’s worth of minimum wage ever did. The humiliation was nonexistent considering you hadn’t even posted yourself naked that first time, if anything you were excited to post again. Who knew a video of you just sitting in a chair, playing with yourself under your skirt with your knees pressed closed would take off so rapidly. That thirty second video changed your life.

– fuck, who is this?? are they new??

– thats so hot. face reveal?

– show us your tits

– god i wanna fuck u so bad

– suck my dick pls

Those comments didn’t bother you, it was a little flattering if you were being honest with yourself. People wanted you, they don’t even know your real name, have never seen your face or what you look like in the sunlight. They don’t know you and yet, you’re everything to them, so much so that they pay you for your time, and body. They fill your wallet just for you to read their comment out loud, attention whores for you. And you love it. For some reason, their praise is much more fulfilling than anyone you've guested on your livestreams.

Recently, though, you’ve stopped bringing people on, not much to your viewer’s disapproval. There was more interaction and less vulgarity, like they wanted you to actually speak to them rather than just stuff your pussy with whatever new dildo you’d been gifted in your PO box.

You hadn’t planned on having such a personal stream today, you honestly just wanted the relief and thought your viewers would have a good time. But for some reason, the comments were less about getting you to take your clothes off and more about why your voice was shaking.

“It’s okay, I’m okay. Really!” Even you could hear the subtle octave change. “If you wanted me to cry, you could’ve just said please. You know I’ll do anything for you.” 

Perhaps the forced sultriness of your voice worked its charm, the comments quickly switched back to their normal obscenities once you started to unbutton your top. Truthfully, you preferred when they asked you to get naked, it was a lot easier to do than to admit what it was you were really lacking. Honest companionship is the rarest thing.

Rule number two: no identifying features.

Even if you weren’t ashamed, your job is still taboo. No one and everyone knew what it was you did. Your best friend helped you pick lingerie and background mood lighting, your parents thought you were an office worker. Strangers have seen your most private parts, you only allow your grandma to give you a kiss on the cheek during Christmas. Safe to say your occupation was strictly need-to-know.

You’re glad you started live streaming before deciding to get any tattoos, running the risk of someone stopping you in the middle of the street was the most terrifying thing you could imagine happening. Naturally, you avoided getting anything at all once your streams started to really take off.

There was nothing you wore to accessorize unless a patron paid for it in advance, that was always done a week before streams and the contact with the patron was never more than a simple google form and an email from your business account to confirm. Other than that, you were a blank canvas, just a body with a voice that left more to the imagination than you would think. If your viewers were happy, you were happy.

“What do you think of my new nail color? A special someone picked it out for me,” you held out your hands to display the pretty shine, twiddling your fingers. The comments went crazy, “no, no, not anyone like that, c’mon! You know you’re my number one. But I think you should all give lovely user callingherdaddy a thank you for picking it out. Thank you, sir.”

You took the polish off the next morning.

Rule number three: be consistent.

Nothing kills a steady income more than ghosting the ones that put the money in your pocket. You stuck to a strict schedule of three streams every week and frequent posts on your socials. The stuff you posted on your social media wasn’t even related to your work on camming, but it doesn’t hurt when they leave a couple nice comments. 

With a schedule and job like yours, you need a little bit of normalcy. Self employed, you don’t have a real routine when you aren’t streaming. It was starting to make you feel lazy, a bit lethargic, and overall unmotivated.

It wasn’t until recently did you decide to start doing normal people things, like waking up at 7 a.m., doing a mini work out, grocery shopping in the morning, even getting yourself a coffee from the shop near your house as a treat. Doing this was nice, you felt good, your head was clearer. Hell, you even got excited when it came time to do your cams because you felt so full of energy.

You had only been to the coffee shop once or twice before, but to get yourself to keep the routine, you told yourself you’d go every day for the next two weeks. Afterall, it only takes 21 days to form a habit.

It was packed, as usual for a morning weekday. There were only about six baristas working, all scurrying about the bar to get through the morning rush. You liked watching them, mindlessly completing drinks in such a way that made you a little jealous. Most of them seemed your age, obviously you knew that they couldn’t have all had perfect lives, but at least this part of their day was something they could openly complain about.

Were you really jealous? Of normal people? You had to be insane.

Shaking your head, you walked further into the shop and waited in line. You thought nothing of it, placing your order, “iced chai with three blonde shots, please,” and handed the barista the card, “thank you.”

You barely looked up at him, only when he held onto your card a little longer as you tried to take it back did you make eye contact. A little awkward, the barista was staring at you with wide eyes. He was handsome, too handsome to be working behind the counter. Long black hair framed his face nicely, pretty plump lips, and an endearing little mole under his eye that made his siren stare only slightly less intimidating. Yeah, handsome.

He didn’t look away even after he let you take your card back.

“S– sorry. You look like–”

“It’s okay. Thanks again.” You hurried away as fast as you could. He couldn’t have known who you were, right? Not a chance, you have never shown your face. You were wearing too many clothes for any particular body part to be recognizable. It’s just a coincidence.

Either way, the minor interaction with the barista scared you into hiding again, forgetting going out for anything else you had planned and deciding to hole away at home.

You had a livestream to do later anyways, focus on that. There were a few hours left for you to kill before turning on the camera, now would be as good a time as any to set up.

It wasn’t much that you did, mostly just thinking of what it was you thought viewers would like to see for the day. An hour before the scheduled stream, you set up a waiting room on the website that hinted at what the day’s theme would be. Today you thought you’d go a little easy on the eyes; “live soon, hardcandysweetheart: play time! <3”

A typical stream would start off soft, greeting viewers like any other meeting. You’d ask how their day was, if there was anything in particular they wanted to do or talk about, some answered genuinely while others urged you to strip. You liked the ones that asked you how your day was, too, and enjoyed sharing your thoughts with them. Though, it was no secret what everyone was here for, even if sometimes– just sometimes, you liked what came before taking off your clothes more than anything.

“I have a few things in mind for play time today, I’d like to hear what you guys think. Would you prefer this,” in your hand, you held up your favorite vibrator, big and baby pink. “Or this?” in the other, a new grinder that resembled the shape of a tentacle with the sucker-side up.

Comment section didn’t slow down as soon as you showed the second toy. “I thought you might like this one. I got it just for you! I’m excited to try it out with you.”

– im so fucking hard

– i wanna see ur pussy

– thats so nice, ur sweet

“Slow down! Haha, we’re gonna take our time,” you laughed away the weird feeling in your chest as you read the fleeing comments. “You’re so impatient today, lovely. Did you have a hard day? I know I did,” you slowly peeled down the blouse you wore, letting it hang off your shoulders to expose your bare shoulders. It seemed redundant to wear a bra, but you kept the shirt covering your breasts for dramatic effect, hard nipples peaking through.

“I just wanna take it a little more… gentler, if that’s alright.” The camera was angled to cut off at your neck to avoid showing your face, but you bit your lip anyways as you held up the grinder. “It’s a little out of my comfort zone, honestly. I’ve never told you about this fantasy before.” You ran your finger down the rubber center, feeling the many little suction cups bend.

You giggled as you came to the swirled tip of the tentacle, playing with the way it curled and how pliable it was. “When I ordered this, they let me choose the color. I think pink suits me, don’t you? But I also thought, maybe blue? Or black… but then it would be too hard for you to see, right?”

As you spoke, you laid the grinder between your legs but not quite touching it. With two fingers, you stroked it the same way you would your own pussy. Your other free hand was doing just that right behind the toy and beneath the length of your shirt, feeling your wetness building up with your hand down your panties. “Oh my, just talking to you– my underwear is soaked!” The giggle that left your lips was genuine, you didn’t expect to work yourself up so quickly.

You stole your fingers from your cunt and showed it to the camera, spreading them to let your viewers see the slick coating shine in the soft lighting. “Heh, told ya I was excited. You make me like this.”

When you started to really get going it was hard to pay attention to the comments, you tended to get a little lost until you finally came. Like now, you brought the toy closer to your core, lightly lifting yourself to sit on it. As soon as you did, you let out a whimper.

Hyunjin had never felt so embarrassed in his life. He doesn’t even know why, he couldn’t have been sure of anything.

Except he was. He was 100% sure, plus another 10% for good measure. He hadn’t even known about the site for long, you were just his favorite. He’d found hardcandysweetheart and never bothered to look anywhere else.

You were just another customer at first, a pretty one that caught his attention. He noticed you in line and had every intention of flirting and possibly asking for you to sign up for the rewards program with them just so he could use that as an excuse to get your number. Then you spoke.

All you fucking did was speak. “Please,” and “thank you,” and Hyunjin fucking crumbled.

Jesus, he must have looked like an idiot. He knows he did, but he was star struck. Fanboying, red in the face with embarrassment, about to fold at the knees, and hard as a fucking rock all at the same time. He had to excuse himself to the restroom as soon as you left just to get his boner to go away.

If it really was you– and he hoped to god it wasn’t– he’ll never forget such a pretty face.

Which is why he turned on notifications for your stream. He knew your schedule by heart but he needed to be sure that it was your voice he heard. As soon as he got home from his shift, clothes came off and he was sat in bed with his laptop nearby, just waiting for the ping notification from you.

God, it was you. As soon as he heard you through his headphones, it confirmed what he already knew.

What a kind voice, supple, soft, he could listen to you for hours– he has listened to you for hours. Sometimes he wished you could do live streams of just you talking, you never even had to take your clothes off. Now that he knew what you looked like, Hyunjin’s heartbeat faster than it ever did when you made conversation.

It was the way you did, as though you were speaking to him and only him. The image he created of you in his head looked like it was thought up by a child in comparison to seeing you in real life. He could put a face to the voice now, he wasn’t even thinking about your body. Just your voice.

“You make me like this,” you said in almost a whisper, tone cracking just a little the more you sat on the toy.

Hyunjin couldn’t help but palm at himself, not entirely stroking but moving at the same pace. This was a team effort, in his mind. You made him crazy, as he did to you. That was his fantasy. You always spoke with so much love in your voice, as though you truly cared for him and it got him harder than any other kind of porn ever could.

Was that really all it took? Was he that pathetic? Someone who didn’t even know who he was, talking to an ocean of people that all saw the same thing he did, and suddenly it’s the only thing that can make him cum.

He can’t even complain now, he’s seen you. That’s enough spank bank to last him a lifetime if you ever suddenly decided to stop camming. Shit– he hopes he didn’t just manifest that into existence.

The white button up top draped in front of your cunt to hide away from view. That’s alright, you said you were taking it slow today. Your hips slowly pushed forward and back, hands gripping tightly at the armrests of your uncomfortable looking desk chair. Hyunjin thought it was kind of cute how you would still cam in the same seat as you did when he found your first video. 

His laptop on his abdomen concealed the view of his cock leaking, but the way you were sat on screen, he could envision it was him you were sitting on instead. That’s exactly what he imagined as you rocked faster into the toy, lifting your shirt and balling it in your fist to show that your wetness had spread to the front of your panties. Hyunjin didn’t even mind that the bold pink tentacle blocking a bit of the view, you were getting so into it that he hardly noticed anymore.

Hyunjin fumbled to find his dick, slowly beginning to squeeze the head as you turned to shorter and quicker ruts towards the front of the toy where the tentacle curled up. You moaned loudly, making him do so as well in return. “Fuck, I ruined this pair, didn’t I?”

Your cute laugh had Hyunjin breaking out into a smirk, “that’s okay,” he whispered to no one but himself.

“I should take it off but,” you rolled your hips again with a whine, “I kinda want you to work for it.”

The tips in the corner of the page were pinging like crazy as soon as you said that. He himself tapped the button rapidly and paid no mind to how his account balance shot down.

“C’mon now, don’t be shy. It’s just one little word that I wanna hear. I’ll say it first, if that makes you feel better.” The speed of your hips picked up a little, in turn Hyunjin let his fist slowly work up and down, no faster than you, of course.

“Please. Please, is the word I’m looking for, lovely. Say it, just once.”

Fuck, he couldn’t help speeding up just a little. He loved the way you said it, even more the way you commanded him to say it as well. “Please,” the whimper came out breathy and uneven as the precum lubricated his cock more.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Hyunjin shook his head, no. 

“No, it wasn’t. Look what happens when you ask nicely,” you stood from your seat just to pull off the flimsy fabric, sitting fully back down on the toy and holding up the soaked pair with another chuckle. “You get nice things.”

Hyunjin could hear how wet you really were now, every lewd sound that came from you rubbing yourself back and forth on the grinder. You still didn’t let him– them– see you fully. He wasn’t even sure if you’d expose yourself at all this stream. Still, his fist picked up speed as you did, taking in every grunt you let out when you’d hit a particularly good spot. Hyunjin kept his eyes on you the whole time, memorizing the way you moved, what angle made you tick.

“C’mon lovely, I know you can do better than that.”

You were referring to the tip counter, but Hyunjin took it as he can do better than that. His other hand reached around the laptop, down to cup his balls as he worked his cock faster, occasionally running his fingers over the head for a break in stimulation. Somehow he managed to stop touching himself for a split second to rapid fire extra tips when they slowed down.

“Oh, someone wants a little extra attention today. What do I call you, lovely?” Hyunjin wasn’t sure if you were speaking to him, though he hoped and typed a nickname anyways. “Baby? That’s cute. Thank you, baby, you’re so sweet.”

His hand instantly returned to his dick, not caring about the speed anymore, instead wanting to cum to the sound of your voice. He quickly tapped the tip button a few more times and you giggled, “baby, you’re spoiling me. Here, since you’re being so nice,” you lifted the hem of your shirt to put your bare cunt on display, seemingly tucking the end of it into your mouth.

Hyunjin could see it so clearly, your pretty lips drooling onto the fabric, biting it to contain the moans that wanted to slip past. Fuck, he was going insane, wet, slick noises from his animalistic fisting on his cock almost surpassing the volume of your voice in his headphones. 

He just watched now, listened intently to how good you were making yourself feel and it made his body light a fire. You were clearly getting closer as well, forgetting the dirty talk and humping away at the toy with little to no regard for who was watching. Hyunjin loved this side of you the most, when you couldn’t think of anything other than the impending pleasure. He could imagine your eyes rolling back, the furrow in your brow and beads of sweat dripping down your temples as you came nearer to falling over the edge. Your hands moved to grip the edge of the seat, aiding in pushing your body forward and back harder against the grinder and Hyunjin was jerking himself with a hotter fervor. Your muffled cries echoed in his head– he was making you feel like this, he was the one you were using to please yourself, he was the one you thought of as you came all over his cock.

Hyunjin suddenly held his breath and let his release take over his body, squeezing and pumping the tip of his cock as he spurt his seed all over his stomach and back of his computer. By the time he’d come to, opened his eyes, and regained his breath, you were slumped back in your chair and panting heavily. He missed your grand finale, but that was okay with him, you came at the same time. Even in post nut clarity, he wanted to hear your voice. More than that, he wanted to hold you, run his fingers through your hair, kiss you until you were breathless all over again.

Hyunjin’s shaky hand found the tip button again and tapped.

“Thank you, baby.” He smiled.

You groaned and found the strength to steal the toy from your aching cunt, holding it up for the camera to see it glistening with your essence. Laughing, “this was fun, wasn’t it? I enjoyed myself, I might have to buy more of these.” You tossed it onto the desk and suddenly seemed shy, tugging your shirt as far down as you could without exposing more skin. “Until next time, lovely. I’ll miss you.” You waved your dainty fingers at the camera, doing your signature sign off, and the screen went black.

Hyunjin’s head fell back into his pillows, staring at the ceiling trying to understand all the emotions he just rushed through. 

He couldn’t compute them even if he tried. All he knew was that he was excited to go to work tomorrow morning, hoping that whatever god heard his plea, begging that you’ll come in.

When he went to shut his laptop, his fingers smeared the warm mess that was slowly dripping. “Fuck— ew,” and he hurried to clean up, alone once again.

☆ﾟ

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @goblinracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut

[tac-the-unseen]

JUST READ THE COD GANG REACTING TO READER FALING AN ORGASM SO WHAT IF READER ADMITS THEY NEVER HAD ONE BEFORE?????? LIKE- NEW RELATIONSHIP??????? SORRY FOR CAPS IM ECSTATIC RN BC UR WORK IS SO GOOD🫶🫶🫶🫶🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌

COD characters finding out that Reader's past lover(s) have never given them an Orgasm.

Am I exactly sure what Anon is asking? No, But I will persist.

I'm choosing to write this with the interpretation of Reader never having an orgasm even though they've had sex with others. (The other way I read it was that Reader just flat out never had an orgasm before, and I think that's extremely unrealistic. So we're going with that one) ALSO because of the prompt You and the guys have yet to bump uglies!

Ghost:

•Simon is a little confused "Like...None of them?"

•He takes it very seriously

•He asks you to elaborate a little more. He just wants to know if the other guys sucked (or just didn't in this case) or if you two needed to do something specific in order to please you.

•He understands if you need some kind of accommodations and will ask you what he needs to do

•You and Simon have a long discussion over what you want your first time with him to be like. He makes sure you both have a clear understanding of what's to come (ha).

Soap:

•First thing he says is “Would you like to?”

•He thinks it's a little funny but really sad too

•”Darling, you're too pretty to let subpar men just use you.”

•He immediately wants to show you how it's done and what you've been robbed off

•He asks if he can take you for a “good ol' mustache ride”

Price:

•”Young men are dumb.” He says and takes a drag from his cigar

•”But I guess it's nice to know I have no competition.” He smiles

•He does talk to you about your needs and what he needs to do to meet them properly

•He takes you out on a nice dinner date, goes on a nice walk with you, and end up with his hands wrapped around your waist taking you home

Alejandro:

•Can not stop laughing

•As soon as you tell him he erupts into a fit of giggles. He takes him a full 3 minutes before he calms down enough to hug you and pat you back.

•”You poor thing.” he chuckles and kisses your cheek. “I'll make sure to make up for all their failures, Mi querida.”

•He’ll ask you what they were doing down there the whole time. Which leads to even more laughter when you tell him.

•”But I think I should buy you a nice dinner first.” he winks

Roach:

•Stunned

•Absolutely floored

•”Like never?” He signs. You can see the horror in his eyes

•He’s got his head in hands, contemplating life. He's so concerned for you. He has to take a moment of silence to comprehend the level of incompetence the men in your life must have had.

•When he finally sits up he looks you directly in the eyes and signs “Thank God I'm good with my hands.”

Gaz:

•Slowly turns his head to look at you with his brows furrowed and confusion

•Is too shock to speak

•He gets up to pour himself some Scotch

•”How many times have you had to fake an orgasm?” “8” he proceeds to down the entire drink and pour himself another

•This time he hands it to you “You need this more than me.”

Rudy:

•He gets up and takes a lap around the house

•When he gets back he pulls you into a hug

•”You deserve so much better, Mi Tesoro.”

•Kisses your jaw and runs his hands down your back. “I can give you so much better.” He tells you in-between kisses

•He offers you himself until your properly satisfied, for however long that takes

König:

•”Why do you like incompetent men?”

•He means it in a genuine way, But he accidentally reads you to filth.

•”Why spend your time and affection on someone who cannot please you?” he asks. “I didn't want to seem shallow.” You replied. “Shallow? Liebste, No.”

•He practically scolds you for allowing such men into your life. It's actually the most you've ever heard him speak. Which really tells you how upset he is.

•”You're Lucky I'm here. I will not let such things happen ever again.”

•And fuuuck, he means it

Mace:

•”Other men are filthy animals.” he tells you like it was a normal thing to say

•He gets in close to you and rests his arms on your hips. “Don’t get me wrong, I'm a man whore.” He laughs lightly and kisses you “But you knew that.”

•He asks you for all the funny details and thinks it would make a decent bonding experience.

•He tells you about his less than great sex stories and failures

•”Rest assured sweetheart, I'm a pro at making people scream.”

Thanks for reading <3

(I realize now that I wrote them all in different mindsets of this prompt... Good luck with that, I guess)

[jamdoughnutmagician]

From Me to You.

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary:Eddie finds a love letter pushed through his locker, and he’s determined to find out who his secret admirer is.

Warnings: Nothing that I can think of, just tooth-rotting Valentine’s day fluff! Slight use of "y/n" sorry I couldn't escape it!!

Word Count:1,867

Authour’s Note:My life is so devoid of any kind of romance, so I though what better way to resolve that than to write some cutesy Valentine’s Day fic with everyone’s favourite metal-head? Maybe I'm posting this a little early, but I'm pretty pleased with how this turned out (since I suck at writing fluff) and I wanted to share it!

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Eddie, oh no, that couldn’t be further from the truth. However, having to admit to your crush on your best friend? Well that was a whole other story.

So, your big plan was to leave little secret admirer notes in Eddie’s locker in the week leading up to Valentine’s day on Friday. It was an easy way to confess your love to him, without the sting of rejection coming to bite you in the ass.

The Monday after your last class you waved Eddie goodbye as he made his way to the drama room where the Hellfire club would be meeting for their latest campaign. Although you didn't share his love of Dungeons and Dragons, you were still as close as friends could be, only you didn't want to be just his friend.

Waiting for him to disappear out of sight, you look around to check the coast is clear before you slip the hand-written note into his locker. Pushing the folded up piece of paper through the vented slats in his locker, you make your way out of the school. 

All you have to do now is just have to wait until tomorrow to find out if your little secret mission was successful.

_______

Eddie strolled into school that Tuesday morning, opening up his locker to put away his things, but as he did so, a small folded up piece of paper fell to the floor. Piquing his curiosity, he bent down to pick up the paper. Unfolding it carefully his eyes scanned over the nice hand-written message inside.

Your smile is my favourite thing and it brightens my day 

He glances at the swirling joined up writing and how the little hearts dot the I’s and he finds his face warming with a blush.

“What’ve you got there then, Ed?”  Gareth asks noisily, causing the rest of the members of Corroded Coffin to turn their heads to their lead guitarist.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Eddie says defensively as he stuffed the note in his pocket.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Gareth dropped the subject and they guys went about the rest of their school day.

_______

The next day, Eddie goes to open his locker and surprisingly another note falls at his feet. 

Quickly he bends to pick it up before anyone notices that he’s received another note. Unfolding the paper he reads the message.

You give me butterflies

He reasons that it must be the same person that it was from yesterday, because the handwriting is exactly the same and the I’s are still dotted adorably with the same little hearts.

As quick as his hopes get up at the thought of someone writing him little love notes,his thoughts are pulled in the direction that this must be some sort of prank. It had to be, right? Why else would anyone leave the school’s ‘freak’ sweet notes like this if not for some kind of twisted joke. 

Jason Carver and his gang probably thought the idea that someone might have a crush on Eddie, laughable. Yeah, he thinks to himself, that sounds more plausible.

Speak of the devil.

Jason and his crew make their way past him laughing loudly and obnoxiously. Right, that's it. 

Eddie stormed up to Jason, poking an accusing finger in his face.

“I bet you think this is really funny, don’t you Carver?” 

“What do you want, freak?” Jason barks out.

“You, leaving those little notes in my locker.” Eddie jabs.

Eddie looks at Jason for a moment, a look of genuine confusion gracing the features of the basketball player, his brows knitted together, before he huffs out an incredulous laugh.

“In your dreams, Munson” Jason laughs in his face as he pushes past Eddie. 

Okay…So maybe this wasn’t a joke. Well who was sending Eddie anonymous love letters?

_______

I want to hold your hands and kiss your face

Another day, another note. Eddie was still none the wiser as to who exactly was putting these love letters in his locker. Right, he thought to himself, he was going to need some help if he had any chance of finding out who this secret admirer of his was. 

Strolling through the doors of Family video, Eddie had decided to recruit the help of the only person he could think that would actually be of any help to him. Even if it did mean that he would have to show all the notes he’d received with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

“Wait, so let me get this straight. You’ve been getting anonymous love letters put in your locker?” Steve asks

“Well..yeah?” Eddie answers.

“...And you’re absolutely sure you have no idea who this is?” Steve presses.

“Well at one point I thought Carver was doing it, you know, for a joke..but I confronted him about it yesterday and that turned out about as well as you can imagine” Eddie explains

“Do you have some that you want it to be?” Steve quizzes, as he watches the metal-head’s expression change instantly, flushing scarlet rising from his chest to his cheeks and the tips of his nose. “Aha!” -Steve exclaims, jabbing his finger towards Eddie- “So you are thinking of someone then?”

Luckily, Eddie was saved from the embarrassment of admitting to his crush on one of his best friends by Robin interrupting his and Steve’s conversation.

“What are you two dorks gabbing about over there?” She shouts making her way from the back of Family video where she was rearranging a stack of horror films.

“Munson here has got himself a secret admirer.” Steve says, cocking his thumb towards Eddie. “Said he’s been getting these little love notes slipped in his locker” Steve continues with his teasing.

“Oooh!! Let me see ‘em!!” Robin squeals excitedly.

Scattering the piece of paper out onto the countertops, the boys watch as Robin reads through each of the messages. Her eyes scan over the words, and her eyebrows draw together, and her expression one of surprise.

“You alright over there, Rob? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, which considering what we’ve been through, is the last thing that should have you looking like that.” Steve joked.

“Shut up, Dingus.” Robin says, shushing Steve holding her pointer finger up at him. “Eddie, I think I might know who your secret admirer is.” 

The two boys look at Robin with wide eyes and bated breath.

Robin turns her back and hot-foots it to the back room of Family video.

“I thought you were going to tell us who it is?” Eddie shouts after his friend.

“Hold your horses will 'ya, Munson?!” she shouts back over her shoulder.

Robin returns with a wide grin gracing her freckled features as she slams down a sheet of A4 lined paper on the counter top.

“What the hell’s this?” Steve said, looking even more confused than before.

“These are the notes that I borrowed from y/n, for Kominski’s class yesterday. Now I don’t know about you guys, but I’d say that that swirly handwriting looks very familiar to me.” Robin says proudly, like she’s decoded the most cryptic of secret messages.

Eddie and Steve lean in closer to compare the handwriting in the love letters, to the handwriting in the classroom notes. 

 “I mean, apart from the little hearts that are dotting the I’s, I would say that is the exact same handwriting” Robin points out.

“So, y/n, huh?” Steve says, letting the thought hang in the air.

If Eddie was blushing before, his whole face must’ve looked like a tomato at this point, 

“Judging by your very red and embarrassed face, I’m going to guess that you like her too, right?” Robin asks.

Steve and Robin look at Eddie as he shyly scratches the back of his neck 

“Okay, yeah I like her..I like her a lot actually.”

“But isn’t tomorrow Valentine’s day?” Steve throws out.

“Oh this is perfect!” Robin jumps up and down excitedly. “Here’s what you’re going to do…”  she began as she brought Eddie closer to tell him her plan.

_______

Sticking to the plan that Robin (and Steve who got dragged into it by Robin) helped him with, Eddie got up early for school for once in his life. That morning he showered, and dressed in a clean Black Sabbath shirt (that he’d previously ironed that evening, earning a raised eyebrow from his uncle, and hung up ready to put on in the morning.)

Dressed and ready to leave, he picked up the bunch of red roses that he’d bought from the Valentine’s day section in town yesterday evening after leaving Family Video.

He’d called you and asked if you needed a lift on the way to school, and knowing you the way he did, you would much prefer to ride with him in his van than take the school bus.  

“Son..” Uncle Wayne called out to Eddie as he was just about to go through the door. “Good luck today, you be nice to that girl, alright?” His gruff voice huffs out.

“I will Wayne, I can promise you that.” Eddie throws over his shoulder with a wide grin as he makes his way to his van.

_______

Pulling up to your house, he parks his van and takes a moment to catch his breath before grabbing his bunch of roses and walking to your front door.

Squaring his shoulders he raises his knuckles to your door to deliver a confident knock. 

“I’m coming!!” he hears you shout from inside the house.

You unlock the door to see your best friend hiding his face behind a bouquet of beautiful red roses before handing them to you.

“These are for you. Happy Valentine’s day” he says as you kindly accept the flowers from him.

Although you had smiled when he’d given you the flowers, he could still sense your confusion at his gesture. 

“I got your notes…I thought they were really cute y’know and truth be told when I read them I kind of hoped they were from you.” he rambled, feeling that familiar heat flushing across his cheeks.

“How did you figure out it was me?” you ask.

“Well it wasn’t easy, but Robin and Steve helped me figure it out…mostly Robin, though..” he chuckles. 

There’s a moment's silence between the two of you where you’re both looking into each other’s eyes.

Feeling bold, you rise up on your tip-toes to place a quick peck to Eddie’s cheek. You feel him smile brightly under your lips.

“Thanks for the flowers, Ed. They’re beautiful” 

“You missed.” he says with a look of disappointment in his deep brown eyes.

“Huh?”

“You missed.” he says again, smirking as he points to his lips.

“Take me on a date first, and then we can see about that kiss, Ed” you giggle.

“Let me take you to the movies tomorrow? We can hold hands and do all that cute shit that you’re supposed to do on a first date” he looks to you excitedly.

“I’d love to!” 

“Great! I’ll come pick you up at seven?” 

“It’s a date” You smile back at him.

[smoshyourheadin]

hey b, so i had a thought could you do a popular!manwhore! fred x princess treatment!fem reader

i don’t mind where you go with it, smut, angst fluff whatever you like

i just have this in my head right now,

“yknow fred,” leaning in closer so the red head could see you peer through your lashes, “i think you’re hot, in fact i think you’re very sexy.”

you took a second before he could say whatever snide comment usually on his tongue, and you shrugged, “i just don’t want to get chlamydia.”

“and look” you continued, “i know you’ve never been serious in all of your… weasley little life but i’m just the kind of girl you take seriously.” with that you started to walk away. “good luck tho, you’ll find someone to suck your dick!”

why me, why now?

pairing: fred weasley x f! reader

a/n: OH THIS ATE DOWNNNNN i had sm fun writing this!! requests open <3

fred weasley was notorious at hogwarts, known for his pranks and, more obviously, being a weasley. but also for his effortless charm with the ladies. his reputation as a heartbreaker was well-earned, yet it didn't deter the flocks of girls who giggled and blushed in his presence. he thrived on the attention, relishing the freedom of fleeting flings and casual encounters. but there was one girl who was different, someone who didn’t just blend into the sea of admirers.

you were the epitome of elegance, always carrying yourself with a regal air that commanded respect. your beauty was undeniable, but it was your confidence and poise that set you apart. fred had tried to catch your eye many times, but you always seemed to look right through him, as if you were untouchable. it only made him more determined.

one evening, during a particularly lively gryffindor common room gathering, fred spotted you sitting alone, reading a book. it was the perfect opportunity. he sauntered over, a smirk playing on his lips.

“evening, princess,” he greeted, leaning casually against the arm of your chair.

you looked up, arching an eyebrow. “fred weasley,” you acknowledged, closing your book and giving him your full attention. “to what do i owe the pleasure?” you said with a sarcastic grin.

“i couldn’t help but notice you over here all by yourself. thought you might like some company,” he said smoothly.

you gave a small, knowing smile. “company, is it? and what makes you think I’m interested in your kind of company?”

fred leaned in closer, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “oh, i think you might enjoy it more than you’d care to admit.”

you let out a soft laugh, leaning in so your faces were mere inches apart. “y’know, fred,” you began, your voice low and sultry. “i think you’re hot, in fact, i think you’re very sexy.”

fred’s smirk widened, but before he could respond, you continued, “i just… don’t want to get chlamydia.”

his eyes widened in surprise, and you seized the moment. “and look,” you went on, “i know you’ve never been serious in all of your… weasley little life, but i’m just the kind of girl you take seriously.”

with that, you stood up, brushing past him. “good luck though, you’ll find someone to suck your dick!” you called over your shoulder as you walked away, leaving him standing there, stunned and speechless.

the common room was abuzz with whispers and snickers, all eyes on him as he stood there, his usual confident attitude momentarily shattered. for the first time, he felt a pang of something unfamiliar - a desire to prove himself worthy, to be taken seriously by you.

over the next few weeks, fred found himself seeking you out, but not with his usual playful banter. he was sincere, genuinely interested in getting to know you. he would sit with you in the library, offering to help with your studies, and he’d walk with you to classes, always respectful and considerate.

one afternoon, as you sat by the black lake, fred approached you, his expression earnest. “can i join you?”

you nodded, gesturing to the spot beside you. he sat down, silence stretching between you. finally, he spoke, “i know i haven’t exactly had the best reputation, but i want you to know i’m serious about this. about you.”

you turned to look at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “why me, fred? why now?”

he took a deep breath. “because you’re different. you’re not like anyone else. and i don’t just want a fling with you. i want something real.”

your heart softened at his words, seeing a side of fred weasley that few ever did. “i’ll give you a chance, fred. but you have to earn it.”

he nodded, a determined look on his face. “i will. i promise.”

as the days turned into weeks, fred proved himself, showing you a depth of character that belied his carefree exterior. he treated you like a princess, not just with gifts and grand gestures, but with his unwavering attention and respect. slowly but surely, you found yourself falling for the red-haired prankster who had turned out to be so much more.

in the end, fred proved to himself and to you that he could be serious, and in doing so, he won your heart.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: wrong number au, Eddie texts Gareth something personal but puts in 1 wrong number & ends up texting Steve. The two of them hit it off & start chatting & then when they meet IRL they are completely head over heels in love & its cute as fuck

MY LOVE MY LOVE MY LOVE!!! LOVE A GOOD WRONG NUMBER AU!!! I can't believe I've never written it before now. I also had to actually include Gareth because I am actually obsessed with him lately, and I just think it's really neat that we can make these characters our own. This was such a fun and cute request! I didn't do the inappropriate route because I thought this was hilarious so sorry about that. I made up for it with something else! - Mickala ❤️

----------------------------------------------------------

GARE BEAR! You won’t believe it but i dropped my phone in a sewer. Lost everything.

He had never been so happy about having his closest friends’ numbers memorized. His phone was somewhere under the streets of Chicago, floating through dirty water and sewage, dying a slow and painful death.

He texted everyone else one at a time, let them know he had a new number and to completely delete the old one because it would never be recovered.

They were used to things like this happening; He lost his phone annually at this point and it was cheaper just to get a new number than transfer everything to a new one.

He went to dial Wayne, the old school part of him insisting on phone calls instead of texts still, when Gareth’s name popped up with a new text.

Not sure who Gare Bear is, but sorry about your phone. That’s shitty.

Eddie let out a loud laugh.

did you mean to make a pun?

Did it make you laugh?

yes

Then yes.

Eddie sat down on a bench, entirely focused on his conversation with this stranger.

Did you find your Gare Bear yet?

Not yet but i think i’m pretty happy talking to you for now

Smooth, Eddie.

Admittedly, he was in a hell of a dry spell.

Going on almost two years, actually.

A little flirting with a stranger never hurt anybody, not when he clearly needed some practice.

Not sure if your Gare Bear would like it very much though

Wait, what?

Eddie stared at his phone, trying to comprehend what that could mean. Why would Gareth not want him talking to a stranger?

I hope you find your partner though!

Oh.

Oh!

Eddie hit the call button in the corner before he could even register what he was doing.

“Hello?”

Oh no, he sounded hot.

“Hi. So, Gareth is very much not my partner. He probably actually wishes I would really forget his number,” Eddie rushed out.

“Um. Okay?”

“He’s been my best friend for ten years and he thinks I’m a mess. Not a partner,” Eddie further clarified.

“Got it. Not a partner.”

“Yes, exactly.”

They stayed silent for a moment before Eddie coughed.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“Steve. Sorry about your phone, seriously that sucks,” he sounded genuinely apologetic, like he personally threw Eddie’s phone in the sewer.

“Oh, no big deal. I lose my phone more often than I go out with someone,” Eddie said.

Why did he say that?

Steve let out a laugh and it was like music.

Eddie couldn’t help the smile taking over his face at his laugh, already knew he wasn’t gonna be able to let this guy go without learning more about him.

“So you’re, what? Celibate?” Steve asked.

“Far from it. Well, maybe not far from it. Temporarily, maybe. It’s been a while,” Eddie admitted.

“How long?” Steve asked, a loud bang coming from his end of the phone. “Sorry, I had to go outside for some privacy.”

Eddie wasn’t going to read into that. He wasn’t.

“Two years give or take. I mean I’m not counting shitty dates that ended before they got worse. So, yeah. Two years.”

“Been a year for me, but. Yeah, I get it. My last relationship didn’t end on the best terms. She decided I was too in love with her I guess,” Steve sighed, voice sounding pained.

She.

Steve was probably straight.

There was no way he’d be lucky enough for Steve to like men.

Or for Steve to like him.

“I can’t really imagine breaking up with someone because they loved me too much. I’m usually the one who falls too hard,” Eddie admitted.

“Yeah, well, same here,” Steve sounded sad, a bit withdrawn.

Eddie wanted to hear him laugh again.

“I doubt either of us have ever fallen as hard as my phone did down a drain,” Eddie said sadly.

Steve let out a loud laugh and Eddie smiled.

“This might sound crazy, but I’m kind of glad your phone decided to live in the sewers,” Steve said when he finally calmed down. “And maybe a little too happy that you typed your friend’s number wrong.”

“Oh really? Why’s that?”

Was this flirting? Was he successfully having a flirtatious conversation with a potentially very hot guy?

“So I can be bold and ask if you maybe wanted to meet up somewhere?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“So you’re in Chicago?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“For the last five years, yeah.”

“You busy tonight?”

Eddie’s heart stopped.

He was really going to meet up with a stranger just because he liked his laugh and hoped he was hot.

He’d done more with less.

“Yeah, actually. I’m getting dinner with this guy I accidentally texted,” Eddie smirked, looking down at his feet.

“Dinner? What a lucky guy. Where are you going?” Steve sounded amused.

“Well, it depends on what he likes. I’ve been craving some pierogies. Ever been to Staropolska?” Eddie asked.

Gareth’s family owned it, and he used to eat there two or three times a week while they were in college, usually working off his bill in the kitchen doing dishes after.

He hadn’t been in a couple months, work keeping him busy and his budget being pretty tight when he moved into a studio apartment by himself.

He had enough to treat himself tonight though.

“The one on Milwaukee? Yeah. One of my favorite places to get devolay,” Steve sounded surprised that he knew it.

“You won’t believe this, but the friend I was trying to text when I got you, his family owns that place.”

“No way! Then we have to. We owe it to the guy who has almost my exact phone number,” Steve responded.

“Meet you there at seven?” Eddie asked, suddenly more nervous.

“Seven sounds good.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Steve giggled. Eddie fell in love.

“We should probably hang up.”

“Should we?” Eddie asked, not wanting to stop talking to him yet.

“Yes, I have to do my hair. Gotta impress the guy who drops his phone in the sewer and texts strangers about it.”

“He sounds like a loser. Don’t put too much effort in,” Eddie sighed. “But okay. See you at seven.”

“See you then.”

They both stayed on the line for a minute.

“Okay. For real. Bye,” Steve laughed.

“Bye, Stevie.”

He hung up before he could convince himself to talk to him for the rest of the afternoon.

He breathed out a loud sigh, smiling as he realized he had a date.

He dialed Gareth’s real number immediately.

“Gareth, I have a date!”

“What is this number, Eddie?”

“Oh, I dropped my phone in the sewers. Not important. I have a date!”

“Jesus Christ. Okay. Come over then.”

—-----------------------------------

Gareth had been his pre-date hype man since high school, though he wasn’t very good at it.

Mostly he calmed Eddie’s nerves and helped make sure his hair didn’t look like he just woke up, which was often its unfortunate state of being.

“So, you don’t know this guy,” Gareth said from his bed.

“No.”

“And you talked for like two seconds and decided you’re in love with him,” he continued.

“Yes.”

“And you think this is totally normal and sane?”

“I didn’t say that. But we just…I dunno. We clicked. I haven’t been that at ease with someone in a long time. It felt natural,” Eddie fell back on his bed, starfishing so his arm and leg hit Gareth’s legs.

“Dude, I’m not discouraging it. I’m happy for you. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if it isn’t as easy when you meet,” Gareth said softly.

“Yeah, thanks. I think it’ll be okay, though.”

“Alright. Tell babcia I’m coming by tomorrow for lunch.”

Eddie sat up and gave Gareth a quick hug.

“Thanks Gare Bear!”

—-------------------------------------------

He arrived 20 minutes early so he could sneak in the back to say hi to Gareth’s grandmother, who still insisted on getting her hands on the food every day for a couple of hours despite being nearly 80 years old.

“Babcia!”

“Eddie! My kochany! You forget to visit and I forget what you look like!” she rushed over, flour and oil stains all over her apron.

He should have kept some distance so his shirt didn’t get ruined, but he ignored the part of his brain telling him to look perfect for his date so he could get a hug.

“You know I have to watch my money,” he said against her shoulder.

“And you know I feed you for free if you clean up after yourself. No excuse,” she pulled away and looked him over. “You look handsome. Why?”

Eddie put his hands on his hips.

“What? Don’t I always look handsome?”

“Of course, but this is different. Your hair is smooth and you smell like the perfume store,” she smirked. “Is it a girl? Or a boy? Or a someone?”

“It’s a boy. We’ve never met in person, so I wanted to make a good first impression,” he admitted.

“Oh! How lovely! What’s his name?” She was back to kneading dough, but kept her eyes on him.

“Steve. He actually has been here before, loves the devolay?”

Babcia froze.

“Steve? Oh goodness.” She turned to the sink and washed her hands, muttering under her breath about something.

Eddie’s heart sank. Babcia didn’t seem happy about this.

“What’s wrong? You know him?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Is he not a good guy? Has he been mean to you? I’ll call and cancel right now,” he insisted, reaching for his phone in his pocket.

“No, no. Nothing like that. He is a very sweet boy. He got broken up with in this restaurant a few months back. Tore me to pieces. He just sat here for hours crying. I moved him to a corner booth for his privacy and he left me a $100 tip and ever since then when he comes in I make sure to give him as many szarlotka as he wants.” She touched Eddie’s shoulder. “You be good to him. He has a nice heart.”

Eddie’s mind raced.

Why had Steve agreed to come here for a date if this is where he’d been broken up with? Why did he even bother coming back if it held such bad memories?

What if he didn’t see this as a date?

The front door chimed and he heard the employee at the front welcome someone.

“He will be good for you, drogi.”

Eddie nodded before making his way to the front, stopping in his tracks when he saw the most beautiful man he’d ever seen standing at the podium, talking to the employee with a smile.

“That’s him,” Babcia said from behind him. “Go get him.”

She shoved him forward, nearly making him trip, which caught the attention of Steve.

He looked over with a curious smile, and then realization seemed to hit him.

“Steve?” Eddie managed to ask, loud enough to be heard over the few full tables in the restaurant.

“Eddie?” he asked back, hesitantly moving towards him.

“I, um,” Eddie started, then cleared his throat. “I usually sit by the window, if that’s okay?”

“That’s perfect,” Steve nodded.

It was cliche, like the room around them closed into just them existing together, like the stars had aligned exactly right for this moment to happen.

They sat down at the table Eddie usually sat at, staring across the table at each other in slight awe.

Eddie really hoped that Steve was having the same feelings he was.

But one thing was stopping Eddie from being completely enraptured.

“Is this a date?” he asked suddenly.

“What?” Steve seemed surprised by his question. “I mean, yeah. I’d like it to be. I thought it was.”

Eddie nodded once, but remained quiet, thinking.

“Oh God, it wasn’t, was it? You were just being nice. What is it with this restaurant? If I didn’t love the food so much or babcia, I would never step foot here again, I swear-”

Eddie put his hand on Steve’s to calm him down, frown on his face.

“Woah. What?”

“I just. I don’t have the best history with dates here and I guess I didn’t learn the first time something bad happened, and now I’m being too much too fast again in this place and-”

Eddie pulled Steve’s hand up to his face, placing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“Stevie, calm down. This is a date. I’ll have as many dates here as you want to to get rid of whatever negative stuff you associate with this place. Babcia would hate that I ruined this place for you,” he said quietly.

Steve seemed to relax at his words.

And if you wanna tell me about what happened, you can. If it’ll help,” Eddie offered.

Before Steve could reply, Gareth’s cousin, Ben, came to take their order.

It was a quick order, both knowing exactly what they wanted, and then Steve looked back at him.

“It’s just. My last girlfriend, who I was with for almost three years, dumped me here. It was kind of out of the blue for me, and I had a really hard time that night.”

Eddie felt his heart break.

How could someone do that to Steve? He didn’t need to know him better to know that he didn’t deserve that, especially not if babcia had taken him under her wing so quickly.

“She must be awful to have let you go like that,” Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand in his, resisting the urge to go to his side of the table and hold him.

Steve shrugged and looked down at their hands.

“I mean, I should have known. She was never much for romance or spending time together that didn’t involve work or school. I was looking at engagement rings and she was looking at apartments to get away from me. I was just…really blinded by what I thought was love,” Steve smiled sadly at him.

“It wasn’t?”

“Well, it may have been a type of love. It was more comfort than anything. She was kind of all I had for the first year we were together, and I think I just ignored how unhealthy that was for both of us. And then I met Robin in college, and she was like the opposite of Nancy in every way. A few months before Nancy broke up with me, I told her that Robin’s parents kicked her out when she came out to them and that she needed a place to stay until we graduated. She agreed, then never made any attempt at getting to know her. And I didn’t read into it, Nancy isn’t like, super talkative with people she isn’t already close with, and Robin just kinda stayed to herself when Nancy was home.” Steve took a shaky breath. “But it turns out she didn’t bother getting to know her because she already knew she was gonna break up with me and leave the apartment to me and Robin, so.she just. Didn’t bother. Robin warned me, but I didn’t listen.”

Eddie wanted to cry.

Steve’s voice was full of pain, but not in a way that told him he still loved her, or still hoped they would get back together. More that she broke a part of him that he still hadn’t been able to fix no matter how hard he tried or wanted to.

“Was she jealous?” Eddie asked, trying so hard to understand what could have happened.

“I dunno. I mean, Robin’s a lesbian, and I definitely never had feelings for her anyway. Nancy was always so sure of herself, I can’t imagine she’d be jealous.”

“It sounds like she didn’t appreciate you very much.”

“What do you mean?” Steve didn’t sound mad, just curious.

“Well, she didn’t even make an effort to get to know your best friend, right? And it sounds like she was too busy focusing on her future to even think about what you looked like in it, and instead of trying to plan it with you, she made a future for her. She sounds a bit selfish,” Eddie shrugged.

Instead of being upset, Steve laughed.

God, Eddie loved that laugh.

“Sorry, it’s just that you sound exactly like Robin. You’d probably be two peas in a pod.”

“Tell me about her,” Eddie genuinely wanted to know more about the person who kept Steve going.

Their food arrived in the middle of the story of how Steve and Robin met, but it didn’t stop him from continuing.

Eddie listened with a fond smile, filling in Steve’s gaps of silence as he chewed a bite of food with questions or something related to what he’d been talking about.

It was easy.

It was fun.

Halfway through the meal, Steve’s foot rested against one of his and it felt like electricity shooting through his bones.

Eddie told him about Gareth, and his family who had pretty much adopted him when they both moved here from a small town in Indiana. He talked about his uncle who raised him for most of his life, who visited every Christmas despite being on a really tight budget.

Time passed quickly, but not at all.

They hadn’t realized how long they’d been sitting there until babcia came out without her apron to hand deliver an apple tart.

“You boys enjoy. I’ll see you both soon!” she said as she smacked a kiss on top of each of their heads.

Both of them blushed, but tried to cover it up with a bite of food.

As they finished, Steve looked outside to see how dark it was, how few people were left walking the streets.

“Guess we should head out,” he muttered, sounding like that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Would you wanna come to my place? We don’t have to do anything except talk, I promise. I just don’t really want this to end yet,” Eddie suggested.

“Really? I haven’t bored you?” Steve asked, just a hint of self-deprecation in his tone.

Eddie shook his head.

“Not at all. I’d really like to get a chance to love you the way you deserve,” Eddie said.

Steve’s eyes widened.

Eddie should back up, should say something less intense.

But if this ruined it, then at least he said what he was thinking.

“You think you could love me?” Steve asked, barely more than a whisper.

“I think I already do a little,” Eddie admitted.

Steve blinked at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape.

“I need to kiss you,” he finally said.

“Now? Here?” Eddie smiled.

“Now. Here.”

“I won’t stop you.”

Steve stood from the table and stood in front of Eddie, placing both hands on his cheeks and leaning down.

Their lips brushed in a barely-there kiss, softer than Eddie expected.

Steve stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, and Eddie couldn’t help the words tumbling from him.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

If someone had said it to him, he would think they were just trying to get him into their bed, but that wasn’t the case here and he hoped Steve knew that.

“People used to call me a charmer, but I don’t think I’m half as good at it as you,” Steve whispered, his breath ghosting against Eddie’s lips.

“Just honest.”

“Take me home,” Steve said, opening his eyes and staring at Eddie, his eyes glowing with something close to love.

—-------------------------------------

They stayed up all night, never doing more than kissing and mapping out patterns on each others’ skin.

They talked about everything, even the painful parts of life, even the parts that they hadn’t shared with anyone else.

It didn’t make any sense that someone who had been a stranger not even 24 hours ago could already mean so much.

When the sun started to shine through the curtains of Eddie’s apartment, Steve sighed and buried his face in Eddie’s neck.

“I have to go to work,” though he burrowed his entire body further into the bed and Eddie’s side.

“You could call in sick,” Eddie suggested, pressing a kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

“Robin would kill me.”

He and Robin worked together as team teachers at an elementary school. When one of them missed, it left the other with 34 kids alone.

Plus, Steve loved his job, worked hard to be a teacher, and hated missing a day if he didn’t need to.

“Maybe you could bring Robin here after work? I can make dinner?” Eddie’s job was pretty easy, marketing for an Indie record label based out of New York remotely really kept him busy for a couple hours a day and the rest of the time was spent writing his own music.

Steve sat up and looked down at him, his hair ruffled from Eddie running his fingers through it for the last eight hours.

“You’d wanna meet Robin?”

“Yeah, if you want me to. She sounds like fun.”

Steve started crying.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry. Good job, Munson, already ruined something good,” Eddie was reaching for a tissue from his bedside table.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I’m just tired and emotional. And just. It means a lot that you’d wanna meet her,” Steve said between gasps for air as he continued to cry.

“Of course I do. I could even invite Gareth over, too, if you want. He won’t believe that our date went well,” Eddie joked, brushing the tears away from Steve’s cheeks.

“I’d love to meet him,” Steve said, sniffling.

“When can you guys get here?”

“Usually we’re done by four, but sometimes we stay later to finish grading stuff. Maybe we should say six?”

“Got it. Any allergies?”

“Robin is allergic to shellfish. She says she is. I think she just doesn’t like them,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“No shellfish, got it. Any preferences, my love?”

Steve blushed at the term of endearment, looking down before he leaned in to kiss Eddie softly.

“Anything you make will be great.”

“You wanna borrow some clothes for work?” Eddie asked.

“Do you have any business casual stuff?”

Eddie gagged.

“Unfortunately, it’s required for the job sometimes. Far left of the closet should have something,” he nodded towards the small closet by the bathroom.

Eddie watched as Steve walked over and picked out his only pair of khaki pants and a navy button down. Steve looked back at him and winked before he nodded towards the bathroom.

“Could use some help working the shower if you’re willing to,” he smirked.

Eddie jumped up from the bed and ran into the bathroom, ignoring the way Steve was laughing.

“The hot water is tricky sometimes. I should probably get in there too to make sure it stays hot,” Eddie said as he stripped off his pants.

“Definitely. Wouldn’t want me to get cold,” Steve put a hand on his shoulder to slow him down. “Kiss me?”

Eddie leaned in to kiss him slowly, letting his tongue brush along his lips just to get a taste.

“Okay?” Eddie checked in.

“Yeah. You remember what you said last night? About loving me like I deserve?”

Eddie nodded.

“I want you to. And I want to love you back.”

“I think we can arrange that.”

[dira333]

The Cat and the Human - Kenma Kozume x Reader

I will never willingly admit that Kenma's my favorite even though everyone knows I really really really really really really really really really love him... So.... have this fun piece instead. Also, @notsochillnerd this is kind of an excerpt of "Young Love" that I came up with today. Have fun with it knowing what you do.

“The story goes like this:  The most wanted woman in town has announced that she’ll only marry the one who can open her front door with the key around her cat’s neck. Many men try to hunt the cat down, chase and trap it, but to no avail, the cat is simply too quick, smart and clever, and always finds a way to evade and avoid them.

You are the first one to figure out the obvious: Do not chase the cat. The cat is befriendable. Get the cat to trust you, to genuinely enjoy your company, and you can hang out with the cat. You may eventually be allowed to touch the cat. The cat will freely let you take the key. 

Plot twist: The woman is a shapeshifter. She is the cat.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Kenma asks, engrossed in his hand-held game. He’s taken his perch in the comfy chair next to the Couch you’re lying on, his seating position weird enough to give everyone back cramps but him.

“I thought it was obvious,” you say, pick up your book again, and continue reading.

It’s a good book, really. One you’ve been trying to finish for weeks now.

It’s just a little hard to focus when Kenma’s sitting there, perfectly disheveled hair falling into his eyes, the gold in his hair glinting in the sunlight.

But you prevail, your eyes returning to the page.

And it gets easier, a little bit at least, to get sucked into the narrative.

Only to be pulled out of it quite harshly.

“Want to cuddle?” Kenma asks, pointy knees digging into your side as he climbs onto you without waiting for an answer.

“Do I have a choice?” 

“No.”

-

Kenma is like a cat.

It’s a common inside joke by now, one that’s already a little grey around the edges, but he keeps it alive with all his adorable quirks.

Kenma hates water - do not take him swimming - and he’s usually more active during the night. He can sleep for hours on end, his body seemingly consisting of nothing but liquid, curled into the oddest shapes.

More than once you checked his pulse because you thought he fell down the stairs and died only to find out he just couldn’t be bothered to make it to bed before snoozing off.

Those things are all old news though, commented on time and time again by his friends. 

You wonder how many of them know just how cat-like he reacts to attention.

-

It’s the way he shies away from the spotlight, hides whenever someone’s trying to get him to do something - even things he would have ordinarily liked doing - only to come out just when no one’s paying him any attention anymore.

Maybe it’s because you’ve always had a thing for cats.

You like the differences in their characters, how they can force you to abide to their consent. If a cat doesn’t want you to pet them, they’ll just bite you.

Still, you can’t help but think sometimes that Kenma chose you first.

-

“Hey,” you look up from your Laptop to see him standing in the doorway of your room, hair tied up in a messy bun and the hem of his hoodie going almost past his knees - it must be one of Kuroo’s then.

“Hey.”

“What are you doing?”

“Creating a training regime for the team, why?”

“Can I stay with you? I’ve got some free time and I’m kinda bored.”

“Sure,” you nod, turn back to your screen to let him figure out where he wants to sit. So far that’s always been the best way to go about this, and you’re not that surprised when his knees soon dig into your back as he climbs into the tiny space between your back and the backrest of your chair.

“Comfy?” You ask as his head sinks heavy onto your shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Time passes slowly. You move as slowly as you can, trying not to upset his balance, your heart sloshing in your chest to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Maybe it’s because you’ve always had a thing for cats.

Maybe you’ve just always been dreaming about him. 

“Do you mind spending time with me?” His voice comes out a bit muffled, but the words are clear.

“Never.”

“Why?”

“I like sending time with you.”

“How much?”

You accidentally click a wrong button and the big flashing sign asking if you really want to delete the document is screaming the truth in your face.

Kenma’s breathe ghosts ove your neck and you know, you just know, that he’s seen it all. Nothing ever goes unnoticed by him, not even your own feelings.

“A lot.”

“More than Kuroo.”

“Hm.”

“More than Akaashi?”

“Akaashi’s my cousin.”

“Still.”

You sigh. 

“Don’t tell him,” you ask, “but yeah.”

Kenma’s quiet for a while.

“More than Bokuto?” He finally asks, his voice tiny now.

“Yeah.” Your voice is barely more than a sigh, an admission of things you’ve probably always known, but never dared to be real.

And maybe you’re imagining it - though you doubt it, with how hotwired your senses are right now - but it almost feels like Kenma’s lips are moving against the back of your neck, pressing the tiniest of kisses against warm skin.

Some cats are vocal. Others show their love in a different way.

-

“How’d you get him to agree?” Hinata asks, breathless with excitement.

People stop and stare. Even without the flaming orange hair he’s breathtaking, his smile a second sun.

You’ve long grown immune to it, looking for a different sunshine in the crowd.

“That’s a secret,” you tell him off, messing up his hair like the big sister/Senpai you are to him. “Not telling.”

“I’ll just ask Kuroo for it.”

“Good luck, he wants to know too,” you pull back when you spot him, knowing full well that next to him-

“Hey,” you can barely hide the smile that’s always overtaking you at his sight.

“Hey,” Kenma sounds way less enthused, shuffling into your side. If you’d try to read his mind he’d probably be thinking “Too hot, too loud, too many people” in cycles, so you take his hand and squeeze it, a little surprised when he squeezes back.

“You owe me for this,” he reminds you before he has to leave again, playing as a setter for Hinata’s team in a charity Beach-Volleyball event.

And you do.

-

“Thank you,” you mutter into his sunkissed skin later that day, his body stretched out alongside yours, too tired to move, too tired to care, too tired to do anything other than press into you.

“We didn’t even win,” he grumbles back, never too tired to point out the obvious.

“Still,” you curl a lock of his hair around your finger, press a kiss against the underside of his chin, “I like watching you.”

“Stalker.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t pose for me,” you tease him, giggling when he squirms.

-

Kenma’s like a cat.

It’s the quiet affections that please him and the lack of attention that spurs him on.

If anyone would ask you if you feel guilty for using that against him, you’d have to say no.

After all, he knows your weaknesses just as well. And he’s not afraid of using them against you too.

[pochipop]

＃FNAF MOVIE !! ♡ — IT'LL BE ALRIGHT (MIKE SCHMIDT X READER).

#. synopsis! — mike is used to walking on eggshells, just waiting for another tragedy, and you really don’t want to be just another person who's let him down.

#. characters! — mike schmidt .

#. warnings! — vague references to past traumatic events (canon compliant) , references to a verbal argument .

#. word count! — 1.8k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

Mike is used to people leaving. They come and they go like stray cats who've found someone better to nab food off of, —leaving him with more ghosts in his life than he'd care to admit. At least these ones are metaphorical and melodramatic, though. His saving grace has been the fact that he chooses wisely who to introduce Abby to, just in case. She's been through enough, and she's so young that the absence of anyone would be duly noted. Not that it isn't when it comes to himself, it's just. . . He's learned how to live with loss. Maybe not effectively, but he does it, and for right now, that's probably as good as it's getting.

He's got more pressing matters to attend to. He always does. That's what he argued about with you, —what he fought tooth and nail to defend, even when you backed off. At the end of it, he knew he'd gone too far for no real reason. He wasn't arguing with you at that point, he was arguing with all the people that have left him starved for their affections and their care. The words he said to you were so far beyond your scope that it was almost pathetic to think about all the bullshit he unloaded on you like it was somehow your job to fix it, even when he knew it wasn't. So really, it's no wonder he's adding you to that list of people who've walked away.

For once, he truly deserved it. 

And now he's got to explain this to Abby. Because she likes you almost as much as he does, —almost being the operative word there. Mike sucks at a lot of things, and showing you he cares tends to be one of them, but he loves in his own ways. . . And now, he fears he'll have to do it from afar.

He sort of wishes Abby was the kind of kid he could bribe with ice cream for breakfast to break bad news to. It'd be easier to scoop her some off-brand Neopolitan and tell her she'd never see you again if that would help soften the blow. But it won't, and he knows that. He knows her too well to even try.

Still, he finds himself putting chocolate chips in her pancakes that morning in spite of himself.

When he places the plate in front of her, she narrows her eyes, as if to ask him what he's done so wrong. . . Asking what he's offering silent apologies for in the form of sweet pockets stolen away inside her favorite breakfast food. He opens the fridge in search of orange juice just to avoid her gaze.

Before she can even take a bite, he opens his mouth.

"Listen, Abby—"

She looks up at him with those big, doe eyes, and he probably would have cut himself off anyway if not for the knock on the front door. Mike mumbles for her to hold that thought, then goes to check who's outside.

And there you stand a little awkwardly on his doorstep, a brand new bottle of orange juice in your hand. Once again, it's like you've read his mind, and he's as sick of it as he is thankful for it, especially right now. Still, he can't turn you away.

"Morning," you say, almost hesitantly. "I brought juice. . ."

He tries to think of something to say, but hears the quick pitter-patter of Abby's feet fastly approaching. She calls your name so happily, and you smile at her.

"Good morning to you too," you laugh, returning the hug she gives you with no hesitation.

Mike just stares, as if he can't believe you're even here right now. If you're just here to grab the items of yours strewn about his house, he feels like the least you could have done was wait until Abby was asleep or something.

"Can I have some?" Abby asks, pointing to the orange juice in your hand.

"Yeah, that's what it's for," you smile, handing the bottle to her.

She scurries off to the kitchen to pour herself a glass.

"Mike," you say softly now that she's out of earshot, "can we—"

"I'll get your stuff together," he cuts you off.

Your jaw slacks.

"What?" Is the only thing you can manage to muster up in response.

"You could've done this at a different time," he snaps, trying to keep quiet so Abby doesn't hear. "It's gonna be ten times harder on her now for me to explain why you're not coming back."

You stare at him, trying not to cry. Out of all the things you expected to happen this morning, such a drastic change of heart on his part wasn't one of them.

"You. . . You're breaking up with me?" You question.

He pauses, a lot of the frustration dissipating from his features, replaced by genuine confusion.

"Didn't you already break up with me?" He asks.

Your brows knit together quizzically. 

"No? What are you even talking about, I never said I wanted to break up with you," you point out.

Sure, you didn’t say it. But most of the others had never said it either. It was like flipping a lightswitch. One minute they were there, and the next they weren’t. That's why he'd gotten so good at keeping his relationships at a distance, and he'd taken the biggest leap of faith in introducing you to his sister.

"Yesterday evening?" He says, but it sounds more like a question.

"We had an argument," you acknowledge. "It was stupid, and you hurt my feelings. I'm sure I hurt yours too. That doesn't mean I want us to be over."

Mike stares at you like he's not sure what to say, because he isn't. He's not used to someone caring enough to fight for him, and for what festers between himself and someone else. He's learned to let go before the thread pulls too tight, —before it wraps around his throat and slices through every defense he's built up for the sake of protecting himself, his heart, and the little girl that depends on him.

"Mike," you say softly, almost cautiously. "I care about you. One bad night doesn't change that. . . Not for me."

God, it was stupid. It was so stupid. You weren't even mad at him specifically, and you're fairly certain he wasn't really angry with you in particular either. Long days on both your parts collided like a warm front to a cold one, and the things both of you said in the wake of it were uttered through venom and gritted teeth. Sweeping generalizations, a lot of rolling eyes, some tears that were more about frustration than they were anything else. . . But you still loved him at the end of it, even as you found yourself walking home alone.

In fact, that walk was particularly sobering. The crisp chill of the autumn evening was enough to convince you that you'd rather be back at his place where he keeps an extra toothbrush for you in the bathroom and emptied out a drawer just so you could have a place to store some clothes. The sleep you got in the night that followed was shallow at best, restless enough to leave faint bags beneath your eyes by morning, and you were determined to make up any excuse in the book just to swing by.

So you went out and got some orange juice, knowing there wasn't any left in the fridge, and you stood outside his door for a while, working yourself up just to knock. You thought about all the things you'd need to apologize for, and you were ready to push aside your ego if it meant Mike could understand just how much you care, even when you're upset.

He swallows, just to give himself something to do while he prolongs his own response, because he's just not sure what to say. Somehow, a part of him is whispering that this would be easier if you just didn't give a fuck. . . If last evening was the end, and he could go back to finding comfort in silence again.

That's how it's always been. Someone leaves, and he copes, and then he files them away with the rest. But here you are, and Mike knows he can't bring himself to put you in with the others.

"Mike, I'm—"

"No, I am," he breathes, reaching forward to pull you into his arms. "I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings, and I'm sorry that I suck at being a boyfriend, but I don't know what I'm doing and all I can tell you is that I'm trying."

He feels the tension meld away from you, and it's then, before you even open your mouth to reply, that he starts to think everything is how it should be.

"You don't suck at it," you answer lightly. "I know you're trying, and that's genuinely all I could ask for, and I'm sorry about yesterday evening. I was in a bad mood, and I took it out on you, and that wasn't right."

"We both took shit out on each other," he corrects, ready and willing to share the blame.

"True enough," you acknowledge with a weary smile, finally pulling away from his embrace.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "When things go wrong, I. . . I've just learned how to slam on the breaks. If I stop things before they feel like they'll suffocate me, I can avoid them. But I love you, and I know I don't want to avoid that."

"This isn't a one way street," you remind him. "Relationships are hard, and sometimes things happen in a way that they shouldn't, but I'm here for you, and I want to be here for you. . . It's not contractual. One bad night doesn't take away all the times you've made me feel like the happiest person on the face of the planet, Mike."

He sniffles a little, then lets out a relieved sigh.

"Are you hungry?" He asks. "I can make you some pancakes. Chocolate chip."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Chocolate chip? Are you apologizing to Abby for something?"

God, a part of him hates that he's so obvious, but another part loves that you know him so well. It makes him feel even stupider for just assuming that you'd be willing to throw in the towel after one rough night.

"No, not really," he shakes his head. (Not anymore, at least.)

Mike glances toward the kitchen, just to make sure Abby's still preoccupied with her breakfast, then steals a quick kiss from your lips.

"I'm sorry," he says again.

You smile.

"Me too."

"And I love you," he adds.

Your smile widens.

"I love you too. Promise."

With that, he pulls you to the kitchen, and you sit down beside Abby at the table. She tells you that when breakfast is done with, she'd like to show you some new drawings she's done, and you nod, telling her you're excited to see them. And you are.

Mike stands at the stovetop, his back to the both of you, not bothering to bite back his grin. 

He feels his foot ease off the break.

[this-is-what-makes-us-fandoms]

Afterlife || Jujutsu Kaisen ||

My own little spin of the afterlife scene with Gojo except with you–me–inserted into it. Also, it's fem implied but I think it can be read as GN too.

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader

Warnings: Chapter 236 Spoilers, fluffish and a little angsty

Words: 1.1K

| Not My GIF |

“Hi stranger, long time no see.”

He’s in hell, he thinks. He must be because only in hell would he be living this nightmare. The one where he meets you over and over again, only to fail in saving you. Still though, it is nice to see your face even in this circumstance. Of course, it’s not something he’ll ever admit out loud.

“Blegh,” he sneers with a face of displeasure. “You’re kidding me, this sucks.”

The smile you greeted him with is instantly wiped from your face, replaced with a frown. An audible scoff leaves your lips and you turn away from him. You face someone else and he sees a familiar bun of black hair, affirming his suspicions of being in hell.

“I told you this would happen,” you say, speaking to Suguru who only smiles in amusement. “This is the last time I listen to you.”

“Pretty rude thing to say after seeing someone’s face,” Suguru chides, looking at his best friend.

Satoru huffs, a nonchalant air following his every movement as he leans back on his seat. His long legs stretch in front of him and he slides down a little. It makes your eye twitch and you almost want to attack. Leave it to him to be so carefree even in the afterlife. You take a seat next to him, well almost next to him with two seats between to keep you separated.

You try not to pay him any attention but your ears twitch the moment he starts speaking again. “I’ve always told my students, when you die you’ll die alone. So please tell me this is just some ridiculous dream.”

“Does it matter?” Suguru rebukes.

He huffs again and mutters something under his breath, something you couldn’t quite catch. Neither did Suguru with the look he threw his way. But the conversation quickly carries on, moving to the next subject.

“So, how was the King of Curses?” he asks.

“Insanely friggin’ strong,” Satoru sighs but you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “And he was giving me all he had.”

He says something else, speaking more about his fight with Sukuna. Again, you just ignore it and let him talk with Suguru. He refused to acknowledge you and you’d return the favor. Because even in the afterlife you were petty and you had all the time in the world to be. That is, until he finally turns to look at you.

“What’s up with you?” he questions, forgetting how rude he’d been earlier.

You look at him with a scowl on your face, finding him unbelievable. You’re starting to remember how much he actually irritated you when you were alive. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you finally acknowledging me?” you chastise.

“Ah c’mon, gimme a break. I was just surprised,” he says, giving you the same attitude that you do him.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure. Here I am, trying to greet my boyfriend kindly into the afterlife and that’s what I’m met with,” you scoff.

You don’t miss the way he flinches at the word, immediately turning his gaze away from you. There’s a frown on his face and you automatically know what’s going on in that head of his. You move to sit closer to him and reach out to him. You grasp his chin, turning him to face you again.

The scowl on your face is gone, replaced with a kinder look. One that makes his chest ache and stomach churn. Satoru’s so glad he’s wearing his glasses, thick black frames that conceal his eyes. He couldn’t stomach having you look him in the eye directly.

“I see now. Is that what this is about?” you ask, reading him easily.

He wants to pull away from you but your touch is so comforting. Especially after being without it for months since you’ve passed. If this is a dream then he wanted to make it last as long as it could. Just until he’s burned the memory of you into his head again.

When he doesn’t answer, you let out a breath and a soft tsk sound. Of course he was still beating himself up over your death. Even though it wasn’t his fault, you should have known he’d still assume the responsibility.

You let go of his chin, fingers delicately running up his face before your palm settles on his cheek. He leans into it immediately and you can’t help but smile. You’ve missed this just as much as he has. Your thumb runs over the apple of his cheek in an attempt to soothe him.

“You idiot, it’s just like you to take the blame,” you mumble, low enough that only he can hear. He should be offended but the way you call him an idiot sounds so endearing. He’s reminded all over again of what he lost that night, even if you’re here now.

“My death wasn’t your fault. I know what I was getting into,” you tell him.

You finally have the chance to tell him what you wanted to say that night. When you couldn’t utter a word without choking on your own blood. The goodbye you never got to share.

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who had to live with it,” he scoffs though it comes out more like a weak breath.

“No, I know, but you need to hear it. You need to know that I don’t and would never blame you for what happened.”

There’s a slight tremble in his lip before he quickly bites down on it. You don’t need to see his eyes to know they’re probably blurry and beady. And you wipe away the singular tear that rolls down before anyone else could notice. He hated crying and he hated doing it in front of others even more.

“But I should have protected you,” he whispers, defeat laced heavily in his voice. “That was my job, you should be alive right now.”

“Hey, none of that now. I’m okay… kinda but small details, who really cares,” you joke, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly.

He huffs again, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips that brings one of your own. You liked it more when he was smiling; genuine smiles, not the fake cheeriness he put on for everyone. When it was genuine, you knew he felt comfortable enough to relax. He deserved peace.

“And you say I’m the idiot,” he mumbles, making you roll your eyes at him.

“I can and will make your afterlife a living hell,” you scowl at him again but it only makes him smile more.

An eternity with you didn’t sound so bad, he could make up for lost time. Yet something told him it wasn’t time yet, eternity would have to wait. You could feel it too, something about the situation telling you it wasn’t going to last. He had to go back, somehow, because his job wasn’t done. Still, he’d enjoyed the time he had now with you… and everyone else.

[homunculus-argument]

Character-concept: A post-apocalyptic clown.

He was never literally a clown, maybe a comedian of some sort. There wasn not much work for full-time stand-up comedians before The End, so he was scraping by with whatever odd jobs he was able to do. Not skilled in anything survival-related, he scraped by just as poorly as most other survivors would, staying alive by being clever but mostly by sheer dumb luck.

Bumping into a more competent, organised group of survivors, he asks if he can join - he doesn't have any relevant skills but he's got two working hands and he's willing to learn.

"What did you do for a living before all this?" "I was a comedian." "We don't have need for a clown." "Well I'm good at doing that and I'm bad at sucking dick, I'm sure you've got use for one or the other. Come on, I could do laundry or mend clothes or something. You could use that, don't tell me you don't - you guys look worse than you smell and that's saying something."

The group's leader, who fortunately happened to be present, considers this. There is a need for someone who would do the vital tasks that everyone else in the group has deemed "undignified", and there has been tensions in the gang about how to make someone do it. He is allowed in.

And he settles in, doing the odd jobs that he'll do badly, but it's better than nobody doing them at all. But what he's good at doing is keeping an eye on people, reading the room, spotting when things are getting tense. And incapable of resisting the urge to do what he does best - what he was born to do - he'll crack a joke or make a remark about whatever the group is just about to start fighting about. At first, he's just told to shut the fuck up. But someone does admit that it was kind of funny.

They start to pause and listen when he opens his mouth. Not because whatever he has to say would be useful to the situation, but it might still be worth the laugh. As they get to know each other, the others start asking him about his Life Before. People like hearing stories about the Life Before, and he always has some funny one to tell, and a masterful way of delivering it.

He gets better at the odd jobs he's assigned to do, and occasionally the others join him to help, just to be around him and hearing him talk. Their fights over The Work That Nobody Wants To Do have eased, not just because of him doing it all, but because making somebody do them is no longer a matter of honour.

Though he doesn't join them on missions, the gang works better together - sharing a laugh with each other helps them to trust and like each other, instead of simply grimly relying on each other as the only way to survive. On their bonfires at night, they no longer simply sit in silence - if there's nothing important to discuss, someone will say "hey clown, tell us a bit", and he gladly does.

They don't thrive - nobody does in an apocalypse - but they do better than the bands of survivors who have nothing but bleak survival to share. He doesn't bring in the meals he eats, but as much as the gang might be reluctant to admit it, it's vital to their survival to have a clown.

[tommysversion]

Not His Favourite ( Javier Peña x Reader 🌶️🌶️ )

CW: contains dirty talk, unsafe sex, biting, spanking, daddy kink, cum play, and other adult content. MDNI.

If asked, he doesn’t have favourites. He knows he’s a good looking man, and beyond that, he knows how to sweet talk. If asked, he’d say it’s part of his job: to know how to get what he wants from anyone, with little resistance.

The truth of it is a little less complex; he’s a man of simple taste, likes the simple pleasures in life, and he’s good at charming the literal panties off most women he meets. No need to be smug about it.

And then there’s you. His definitive Not Favourite, if asked. It’s not like he goes back to you, time and time and time again, even though it’s a risk. He’s mindful that he could be putting you in danger, but you don’t care, and the lure of you in his bed overrides any sort of intelligent thought he might usually have. He’s not a stupid man, far from it, but where you’re concerned? It’s not his mind he’s thinking with.

It doesn’t help that you can read him like a book, more than happy to play along to his moods and desires. Honestly, the night he found you in that bar was probably a damn lucky day. Unlike today, which he’d very much like to forget about: with your oh so helpful assistance, of course.

He raises a fist and knocks on your door. It takes you a moment to answer, but not long enough for him to worry.

“Javi…” you greet him by nickname, all made up and dressed in the cutest damn minidress he’s ever seen on you, a pair of heels dangling from your left hand.

“You were working tonight?”

You give him a sheepish look, then stand aside to let him pass. He toes the door shut behind him, makes sure to lock it.

“I can call out,” you offer, a conspiratorial smirk on your face. He almost feels bad; you’d probably make a decent pay check if you went to work, but hell, it’s not like he won’t “accidentally” leave some money behind for your time.

“Best do that.” He agrees, cornering you; he doesn’t give you a chance to respond, leans down and devours your mouth before you get the time.

Your hands slide up his arms, slow, loop around his neck, pulling him closer. You know damn well there’s no feeling in this, you’re just one of his girls, just one of his favourites, and that’s perfectly fine with you.

His tongue slips into your mouth, backing you up through your apartment. He’s memorised the entire damn layout, the smartass. All the better to get you where he wants you. You hop up, wrap your legs around his waist, let him carry you instead. Admittedly, you have a less than innocent reasoning for doing so; when he’s carrying you like this, you can grind yourself against the growing bulge in his pants.

He groans into the kiss, one hand reaching down to slap your ass where your dress has ridden up your thighs. He likes the sound you make whenever he does that, far more than he’ll ever care to admit.

You reach your room; he practically tosses you down onto your bed, which gives you a pretty good indication as to how this is going to go. That is to say, hard and rough and fast, if you know Javi as well as you think you do. You couldn’t tell anyone what his favourite colour was, or what his mama’s name was, but hell, you could tell what he liked in bed, and that was good enough for you.

He gets his shirt off, practically throws it aside before he’s on top of you, pressing you down into the mattress with his strong, firm body, his mouth latched onto your collarbone, biting and sucking a mark into sensitive skin.

“Javi!” You half protest; you’ll have to break out your most expensive concealer for work now. Nobody’s going to pay big tips to a stripper who’s clearly marked as someone’s property. In saying that, it’s not as if you truly mind, and he knows it, which is why he doesn’t stop until he’s satisfied.

He pulls your dress down, exposing your bare chest to the humidity of the air, smirking slightly before he leans down, sucks a sensitive nipple into his mouth, bites it gently.

You gasp out, your hands moving to his hair; he stops you before you get there, pinning your hands above your head.

“No touching.” His tongue flicks out, teases your nipple again before he pulls away. Keeps your hands pinned with one hand, finds the handcuffs in his back pocket. You smirk, not seeing them just yet.

“Gonna make me?”

He retrieves the cuffs, gives you a look that can only be described as smug as he locks your left hand to the bed frame, pinned so you can’t touch him. He’s in a forgiving mood though, leaves your right hand free.

“Don’t make me play bad cop, baby.” His hands tease across your thighs, pushing your dress up even further so it sits around your waist. “Though this outfit choice… definitely got me thinking all sorts of ways.”

All sorts of ways he definitely shouldn’t be thinking, if he’s honest. He can feel his cock throbbing and aching against his pants; unbuckling his belt, he tosses that aside, unzips his pants, frees himself, sighs at the brief reprieve from discomfort.

It truly is brief, though; he catches sight of your silk panties, soaked with your arousal at the sight of him. Wrapping one hand around his cock, he strokes himself slowly as he reaches out to touch you, thumb teasing your clit through the fabric.

“Dammit, Javi…” you almost whine it, drawing another smirk from him as he slides the silk to the side, spreads the growing wetness with his fingers.

“That all you got for me?” He asks, “must not be doing a good enough job…”

He doesn’t give you any warning before he plunges two fingers into you, buried to the knuckle, drawing a delicious moan from your lips.

“That’s better.” His cock throbs in his hand, almost in time with your sweet cunt fluttering around his fingers. “Look at you. So needy for me, baby. Haven’t even fucked you yet.”

You look up at him with half closed eyes, lips parted, not daring to touch him yet; you know he won’t let you anyway, not until he’s buried to the hilt inside you, and oh, how you want that. How you need that.

He watches you for a moment, curling his fingers, dragging them out slowly then pressing back in again, right to the knuckle.

“Wish I could take a picture of this moment, keep it in my head forever. You look so damn pretty like this.” If he’s not careful, he could come just from this, from fucking you with his fingers while he edges himself with his hand.

“Javi…” you whimper, and he gives in, curling and twisting his fingers, stroking your sweet spot until you come apart for him, your back arching off the bed, lips parted in a delicious scream of pleasure as you tighten around his fingers.

He pulls them out while you’re still twitching, wipes your juices along his cock slowly.

“I’d say you’re ready for me, baby. Wouldn’t you?”

He leans down, settles himself between your thighs like he belongs there. Drags the head of his cock, glistening with his own arousal and your wetness, across your soaked slit.

“Mm,” you agree, resisting the urge to stroke his back; not yet. Not yet. You know how to control yourself.

He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Mm? That’s not the right words, baby, and you know it.” He teases you again, pressing the tip of his cock into you, then pulling away. It takes every goddamn shred of self control that he has to do so, but he manages it. “Let’s try again, yes? Are you ready for me baby?”

You pout at him.

“Yes, officer?” You hedge a guess, mind still hazy from your climax. Javi is a simple man, truly, his kinks are easily memorised.

He shakes his head. “Try again, carino.”

Oh. OH. You get the hint almost at once, a slight blush colouring your cheeks as you peek up at him through heavily mascara coated lashes. He’s being such a fucking tease, rubbing the head of himself against your over sensitive clit, making you wriggle beneath him.

“Please, papi?” You ask, voice soft and breathy. It’s not usually something you’d be into, but Javi… somehow he makes it work for you.

“That’s it, baby,” he agrees, and sinks his cock deep into your waiting, achingly soft cunt.

“Fuck…” he groans it as he fills you, lets you wrap your legs right around his waist, “you feel so fucking good, carino…”

You gasp out, finally letting your free hand wander to his back, settling there. He doesn’t object, never objects to your hands on him when he’s buried inside you like this.

He doesn’t give you an adjustment period; he knows you better than that, knows you can take him. He’s rough from the get go, setting an almost brutal pace, but you love it.

“Fucking hell, baby, feel so goddamn good… look at you, taking my cock so well…” he moans it into your ear, half in English, half Spanish. Your brain automatically registers the translations, even in your pleasured state.

“You feel amazing, Javi,” you gasp, lean up to kiss him, a deep kiss that feels endless, like you could drown in it, drown in him. He almost laughs, almost, because he knows, trust me, he knows, he can tell just how amazing he is by the look on your face, the way you tighten around him every time he goes a little deeper, a little harder.

“You want more, huh?”

“Please, papi, I need you…”

His cock throbs almost painfully inside you; fuck, just when he thought you couldn’t surprise him, you come out with something like that, completely without prompting.

“Beg for me so prettily, carino…” he groans, lifts your hips up so he can get deeper inside you, harder and faster. He’s aware of the nails of your hand digging into the muscle of his back, but he doesn’t care. He’ll gladly trade some scratches up his back for the intense pleasure he gets from you, from the feel and touch and smell of you.

“Harder…” you beg him, and he complies, slowing down so he can drag himself out of you, inch by inch, before he slams back in, again and again, watching the way you arch off the bed to press against him before he drops his head to your throat, nuzzling into you, leaving a trail of kisses and soft bites in his wake.

Every sound you make is sweet music to his ears, and quite frankly, it’ll keep him going for days - and nights - to come.

“Gonna cum for me?” He practically purrs it in your ear, “cum for your daddy, baby.”

You whimper, every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, and it’s all his fault. All. His. Fault. You’re absolutely powerless to resist him, can feel your climax racing towards its peak, and there’s nothing you can do to prevent it.

You pull against the cuffs holding your left hand in place, your free hand twisting into the bedsheets as you tighten around him, soak every inch of his cock as you pulse around him, arched up beneath him.

“You feel so good,” you manage to get out, “so amazing… fuck, Javi…”

He can’t contain himself much longer; he leans down to kiss you again, messy and hungry and desperate as his hips collide with yours, again and again, until he feels himself throbbing and aching as he empties himself inside of you, hips slowly coming to a stop. He groans softly, presses himself nice and deep to keep any of his cum from leaking out of you.

“So damn good, baby…” he sighs, looking down at the utter mess he’s made of you. You’re covered in bites and bruises where he’d kissed and sucked marks into your skin, but that’s exactly how he likes you.

“Not so bad yourself,” you say, stroking along his arm as he reaches into his pocket for the keys to the cuffs.

With a low, almost obscene groan, he pulls out of you so he can free your left hand. You can feel his release dripping out of you onto the sheets, reach down and catch some on your fingers, pressing them back inside your aching heat.

He catches sight of you, smirks.

“Keep doing that and I might think you wanna keep me around.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, rubs the angry circle around your wrist where the cuffs had bitten into skin.

You shrug.

“Isn’t that the point?” You roll onto your side, watching him, amused.

He smirks at you. Buttons up his pants. Gets up to find his shirt. “I don’t have favourites, carino.”

You smirk a knowing smirk of your own, sitting up to watch him. Your dress and panties are ruined, there’s no way you’re going to work tonight. Not in this state.

“Keep telling yourself that, Javi.” You say as he heads for the door; you can swear you hear him swear softly under his breath as he walks away.

[coloursflyaway]

A Little Of That Human Touch

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.600

Read on AO3

I got this lovely little prompt from @musicismagic-writes: Charles and Edwin finish a really tough case that knocks one of their confidence (don't mind who because I'd read either), and the other spends some time lifting their spirits (pun absolutely intended!). Could be platonic but even cooler if it turns into a moment of realisation for Charles.

And we all know that there is nothing platonic about any of it.

The case had sucked, Charles doesn’t really know how else to put it, and to be honest, he doesn’t think he has the strength to even try anymore.

It’s nothing new that cases with children just grate on him in a way that might have to do more with his own past than with what actually happened, but this time, it’s even worse, because it doesn’t even feel like they helped. Because Charles knows the red tint hell gives everything around when it opens up to swallow a soul, and while they were able to help their client move on, it isn’t them Charles is still thinking about as he slumps down on the sofa, feeling so tired it’s like he still had his physical body.

Instead, it’s the teenager who had beat their client to death, who knew nothing but violence from his home and chose to spread it all around him, and God, does Charles hate it. They should have been able to save him, he knows that deep down in his bones, even if he can see in Edwin’s eyes that the best person in the world doesn’t agree with him.

“Charles”, that very best person in the world says now, and sits down next to him, close enough that their thighs touch. Edwin rarely initiates any kind of physical touch, so this means something, and Charles is glad for it, even if that something is most likely that he is being an idiot.

“You couldn’t have saved him”, Edwin tells him with a certainty that Charles sometimes wishes he could borrow. “Could’ve tried harder, couldn’t I?”

“Absolutely not.” Edwin turns around slightly to face him, and he looks like it isn’t something he believes in, but something he knows. Like that the sky is blue and the sea is deep and that Charles would bring him back from hell if he ever ended up there again, even if he had to burrow his way there with his teeth and fingernails.

He looks like someone Charles shouldn’t be allowed to call anything, least of all his best friend.

“Charles, I mean it”, Edwin insists when there is no answer, which is really sweet and Charles appreciates it, but also kind of hard to believe when Charles can close his eyes and see that poor kid’s snarl turn into fear when he heard Hell approach. “We did our best. You did.”

“Doesn’t feel like it, though.” Charles forces a smile to his lips; if there is anything he doesn’t want, it’s to worry Edwin. “And it still sucks, doesn’t it?” “That it does”, Edwin admits, but his eyes are soft and it’s enough to drive at least a bit of the exhaustion from Charles’ limbs. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

Charles wants to shake his head, but Edwin is faster, puts a hand on Charles’ knee and gives it a little squeeze. “Let me try”, he says, and Charles can’t do anything but nod.

“Is there anything you need?”, Edwin asks when he doesn’t get more of an answer, and Charles response is immediate.

You, he thinks, and the thought is a surprise and the most natural thing in the world at the same time. But there is no time to unpack it, even if Charles is reeling with it, even it feels like a revelation, like something he has always known.

So, he shakes his head, and Edwin tilts his head just so, as if he is trying to figure something out; for the first time in forever, Charles isn’t certain if he wants him to.

A moment passes, and then, under the breath he doesn’t need anymore, Edwin mutters, “Oh, sod it.” And he pulls Charles into a hug, which might not be a first but definitely is a rare occurrence, and Charles feels himself melt into the embrace even before his body has realised what is happening.

There is a sigh on his lips that he cannot swallow down fast enough; he breathes it out, which causes Edwin’s arms to tighten around him even further, and Charles’ head slots into the curve between Edwin’s shoulder and neck like it belongs there. The more Charles thinks about it, the more certain he is that it does.

“Thank you”, he mumbles, half into Edwin’s collar, half against his skin, making Edwin shiver in the process. “Think I needed that.” “I know you did”, Edwin answers, and his voice bears a smile, a tremble, an affection so deep it spans Earth and Heaven and Hell and anything in between. “As did I.”

And he holds Charles tighter still.

“It’s just difficult sometimes”, Charles says like he is answering a question Edwin has yet to ask, and Edwin nods next to him. “Like, I know why we do this, I am glad that we are doing it, but sometimes there’s these moments when I wish we could just… not. Do something else instead.”

“Something else?”, Edwin asks, his voice soft and almost amused and so, so close. “What would you like to do?” “I don’t know”, Charles replies, because he has never really thought about it, has he? It’s more of a vague, shadowy what-if than anything that has been given shape, more a feeling than a fantasy. “We could haunt a museum, you would like that. Or a concert venue. I would like that. Or we could just, you know. Hang out.”

A soft chuckle, and Edwin’s hand slides up along Charles’ spine, leaving a trail of pleasant, warm buzzing in its wake. It’s not quite touch, but it’s a good enough substitute. “And we would still be together?”

“Of course. I told you before, you’re stuck with me”, Charles answers, and it’s not really a decision he makes, it’s just something that happens: he presses a kiss to the side of Edwin’s jaw, short and sweet.

Edwin sucks in an unnecessary breath and then pulls away, an act that almost pains Charles, whose head is swimming, because this is not them, or at least hasn’t been them until now. “Charles…”, Edwin whispers, and he sounds fragile, like Charles could break him in half with a wrong glance, a word. It makes Charles want to hug him again, tuck him close under his chin and never let him go again.

“Of course we would do it together”, he repeats himself, almost sounding defiant to his own ears, because suddenly, he needs Edwin to know this so deeply that he never has to ask again. “I’m not letting you go, am I?”

For a moment, Edwin looks like he wants to say something, maybe just Charles’ name, maybe something else entirely, but then, seeming like he might not even be aware of it, he leans in. It’s the smallest movement, one that Charles might not even have caught if they weren’t so close, or he wasn’t this in tune with Edwin, but he does. Even if Edwin stops himself almost immediately. Almost, Charles thinks, too quickly.

A moment in which they are almost suspended in time, and then a thought appears in Charles head, cloaked in soft light and bright affection and the dimmest hint of surprise.

“Did you… do you want to kiss me?”, he asks before the thought has time to disappear again, before the courage can, and Edwin’s eyes go so wide, so helpless, so beautiful.

He stays silent for a little, while Charles just watches him: the paleness of his skin, the plush pink of his lips, the curve of his eyebrows, and the warmth of his gaze.

“Yes”, he finally whispers and it feels like he is confessing all over again, only that this time, Charles thinks he knows an answer. “Very much so.”

His heart should be beating hard and fast and overwhelming, Charles thinks, only that he has no heart left; the physical one long since rotted, the metaphorical one long since given away.

“Well, go on, then”, he tells Edwin, and watches something bloom behind those green eyes. It’s hopeful and surprised and scared, all at the same time, and Charles knows in an instant that he’ll carry that look with him for the rest of his existence.

“Are you certain?”, Edwin asks, his voice trembling, “Charles, you have to be certain. I couldn’t take it if you weren’t.”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t do this to you, not if I wasn’t sure”, Charles replies and he didn’t know it five minutes ago, but he is. He is as sure about it as he is that the sky is blue and the sea is deep and that he would bring Edwin back from hell if he ever ended up there again, even if he had to burrow his way there with his teeth and fingernails. “You said you wanted to make me feel better, right? So, go on.”

Edwin is still watching him like he thinks Charles might disappear into thin air, so Charles quirks an eyebrow, before he reaches up to put his hand on the side of Edwin’s face, thumb caressing the soft skin there. It looks like it belongs there, feels like it, too.

And slowly, ever so slowly, Edwin leans in once more, only that this time, Charles knows to meet him halfway.

Edwin’s lips are soft and sweet and slot into place against Charles’ so easily it feels like they have done this a thousand times before; they move with the inexperience Charles expected and it’s intoxicating, it’s everything he could ask for. Softly, gently, because it still feels like he might scare Edwin away, Charles uses the hand he has on Edwin’s cheek to change the angle of their kiss, licking into his mouth and wishing desperately he could taste Edwin on his tongue, drink down his essence, fuse them together until where one begins is where the other ends.

And then Edwin half gasps, half moans against his lips and Charles presses closer, thinks that maybe not even that would be enough.

And then presses closer still.

[scekrex]

It's me, yes it's me! I know you were all waiting for me! :DD

Yes, yes, it's an another crack fic, yippeecayay, mfers 🤠 Adam and reader arguing about something, might be something stupid or something serious, obviously they still love each other but both of them are insanely stubborn so neither wants to admit they are wrong. The reader goes to cool off, he meets up with a friend and start to just vent his frustration to them when lo and behold, Adam shows up to... Well "apologise" in his own unique way and it's basically him just seeing the location where reader is (They're sharing their locations, Adam's heart cannot handle anymore stress with reader going missing even if for a few minutes), showing up with his badass axe guitar and strumming it, going "I love you bitch... I ain't ever gon' stop loving you... Biiitch", reader's friend just looks at him with the biggest "Really? You actually LOVE him?" and reader just looks back at them with the goofiest grin: "We'll, he's dumb and overly stupid, but he's my dumb and overly stupid man" shrugging his shoulders and goes to Adam to kiss him, just to then smack him and then kiss him again 👀

Babes, I once again have to say that I love your crack prompts, at this point these r the air that keeps me alive bc holy fuck they make me laugh every fucking time.

Do you even

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, fighting (not physically but verbally), slightly cracky

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

“Adam, just shut the fuck up for a second, would you?” you exclaimed harshly as you massaged your temples in order to try and keep calm.

He had been ranting about his bitchy band mate who had ditched him last minute before an important gig and you had enough of it. Ever since the both of you had woken up in the morning all Adam had been talking about was ‘how fucking done he is with that bastard’ and ‘how fucking dare that whore to ditch him last minute because he was the fucking Adam and the fucking Adam wasn't someone you'd ditch to fuck some random - and ugly, his words not yours - bbl bitch'. “Just shut the fuck up for a couple seconds okay? I get it, that fucker ditched ya, it was shitty of him, but for the love of God, stop acting like a motherfucking child and get the fuck over it.”

The brunette's hands were on his hips as he shot you a venomous look, “Well, if you would care you wouldn't mind me bitching about something that meant a whole fucking lot to me.” You couldn't help the huff that escaped you as you closed the gap between the both of you, your index finger aggressively tapping his chest as you looked up at him. Because what the actual fuck? You cared, you cared a lot and usually you didn't mind it when he was bitching about something, but you've had a headache all day and Adam wasn't being helpful with his constant talking. You couldn't even bring yourself to feel sorry for snapping at him, you had told him that you weren't feeling well today and yet he had strictly ignored that just for his own benefit. “You know what? Fuck you, Adam. You can suck my fucking dick for saying that. I fucking care, okay? Any ordinary bitch would've left you by now but I fucking didn't because I love you, for heaven's sake. So quit the motherfucking attitude already,” there was truly no way for you to swallow all the anger that was seething inside of you and you really couldn't care less. “I’m out of here, fucking call me when you decided to quit acting like a goddamn manchild,” and with that you grabbed your phones and keys and rushed out the apartment.

Once the door was shut you broke down entirely. Yes, you and Adam had different options on some things, nothing major though, but fighting like that? That was a thing that had never happened before, not when you started dating and especially not after you married him. Fighting with Adam felt exhausting, you hated how your heart hurt - it almost felt like physical pain. So you did the only logical thing and unlocked your phone to call your best friend.

Arlo was someone you could always count on and that was proven one more time when the man had pulled up to the park in no time - that's where you had asked him to meet you - and he came in company of milkshakes. He handed you the cup as he sat down on the bench next to you. “So, you finally figured out that Adam is a huge bitch huh?” that earned Arlo a glare. Yes, you were mad at your husband, but that was no reason to insult the man you loved so dearly. “Quit it, I'm not breaking up with him because of one single fight,” you mumbled as you took a sip of your milkshake, realizing Arlo had managed to get you your favorite flavor. That brightened the mood at least a little. “Look Y/N, I'm all for love ‘n’ shit, but Adam, seriously? I mean you of all people should know how big his ego is and he just proved this by ignoring your well-being,” the blonde continued to rant about your husband and while Adam's ego was huge, his love for you was bigger.

He didn't let outsiders notice the ways he looked at you during gigs, he made it seem casual when his wing wrapped around your shoulder when you two walked through the streets like it was a thing people casually did - they didn't. Touching the wings of another angel, let alone use your wings to shield someone was a big deal due to the wings being hypersensitive. He always remembered what you liked and what you disliked, no matter what you were talking about. He knew and respected a lot of things when it came to you, things he didn't even tolerate when it came to others. He loved you and while for strangers eyes it wasn't visible, it was everything to you.

“Arlo, I didn't fucking call you so that you can tell me what a shitty husband I have, he loves me and I love him, he cares and just because we had one fight in six thousand years won't make me throw this relationship away so you either shut it or you leave, that's up to you,” you snapped at the blonde angel next to you and it seemed to do the job because Arlo closed his lips around the straw of his own milkshake and seemingly swallowed all the hatred he hold for Adam. You knew Arlo was trying to cheer you up, but he was doing a shitty job at that. Down talking your husband wasn't something you would let slide wordlessly. Because when Adam wanted, he was very much able and willing to serve you the world on a golden platter. He had risked a lot for you already and you were aware he would do it all again.

-

In the meantime Adam was still at your apartment. The second you had slammed the door shut behind you he realized how badly he had fucked up. There had always been different options on certain things, that was fine though. Usually you guys were able to talk it out and find a solution that made both of you happy, you never had a fucking fight in over six thousand years and now the fight had been intense enough to result in you leaving.

He had fucked up badly and he knew it.

But he couldn't just wait for you to come back. In the name of the almighty lord above, Adam wasn't even sure if you'd come home for the night. What if you were to stay with a friend until tomorrow, maybe even longer? No, he needed to solve this now. So he did the first thing that came to his mind and checked your location.

When you two had just started dating he had been losing you a lot, mainly because whenever you saw something that you liked or that you thought he might like you were running off to get that thing. So the two of you had agreed to constantly share your location with each other and ever since then that had never changed, these days it was a simple habit. The little icon on the map was pinned on the park. Good, that wasn't too far.

So the man grabbed his guitar and left to apologize.

-

Arlo’s eyes scanned the park for a moment, then he groaned quietly, “Speaking of the devil.” You turned your head to look over to where your blonde homie was looking at and couldn't help but roll your eyes.

Adam was walking straight towards you.

He had his guitar in his hand as he confidently walked across the park just to stop in front of the bench you and Arlo were sitting on. You weren't the only one annoyed by Adam's presence, the blonde angel next to you was just as pleased to see the leader of the exorcists as you were and he let Adam feel that they didn't want him there. “The fuck you think you're doing?” Arlo hissed at the brunette who was simply ignoring that they were even there. He sighed as you looked at you, something in his mimic told you he was sorry but you weren't able to see the guilt in his eyes due to his stupid mask. Fuck, he really couldn't leave that thing at home for just one day, could he?

Adam adjusted the guitar in his hands, made sure his fingers were placed on the right strings and then he started to play a kinda shitty sounding tune - knowing Adam it was shitty on purpose, there was no way he'd accidentally play bad. “I love you, bitch,” he spoke the words more than he sang them but it definitely made your lips twitch up in a grin. Arlo shot you a critical look, they were having none of it. “I ain't ever gon’ stop loving you,” there was a pause, then he finished, “Bitch.”

And that made you full on chuckle, the glimpse of hope that was suddenly visible through Adam's expression showed you that he knew he had fucked up, that he was sorry. And maybe he would apologize properly once the two of you were back at your apartment. “You’re not gonna simply forgive him with that sad excuse of an apology, right?” Arlo asked in shock as you got up and took a step forward to be able to wrap your arms around the first man's waist. “You ain't ever gonna stop loving me, huh?” you asked teasingly as your finger poked him in his side which made him flinch a little. “Dude, Y/N, he fucking overstepped boundaries and you just gonna forget and forgive because he pulled out his shitty guitar and played two chords?” Arlo complained and stepped up to the both of you, they seemed genuinely furious about it. “The fuck’s your problem man, this ain't your fight, this is our thing to deal with,” the brunette growled at them but they didn't care. To be honest, they never cared about anything Adam said or did to them, no matter if it was something positive or negative. “You’re seriously telling me you love that guy?”

You weren't giving Arlo the satisfaction of attention, instead you pulled Adam's mask up so that the LED face was resting on top of his head and the horns of it were near his neck. “I want a proper apology once we get home, if I don't get that, I'll find some other place to crash at for the night, am I clear?” you explained how it would go, all the playfulness was gone, there wasn't a smirk on your lips anymore and your eyes told Adam that you were serious about it, “And then I'd like to talk it out so that we can find a solution in case that shit should ever happen again.” The leader of the exorcists was quick to nod, followed by a loud and clear, “Yes, sir.” And for the moment that was enough. Enough to lean in and kiss him. Adam melted against your lips immediately, a small moan managed to slip past his lips. But the kiss ended as abrupt as it had started and Adam felt your hand on the back of his head, the mask caught most of the hit but he still felt it, “You fucking idiot.” That made said idiot grin one of his stupidly cocky grins, “Maybe, but at least I'm your idiot.” This time it was him who started the kiss, his wing quickly came up to block the view for Arlo, who was watching the two of you a little too intensive for Adam's liking.